Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Billy Loomis doesn’t trust a lot of people.

He doesn’t trust the girl who sits next to him in history, or his teachers or the family across the street. He’s never trusted the people he calls his friends, never trusted his ex-girlfriend, and he definitely doesn’t trust his dad. He loves his mom, he really does. But he doesn’t trust her. For some reason he thinks he trusts Stu, but under no circumstances does he trust himself.

That’s what makes Stu dangerous.

He’s not sure when he realized he was untrustworthy, because it definitely wasn’t the first time. Back then he had no idea what was coming, back then he only had a best friend that he thought about a little too much, so it was easy to tell himself to stop and it was just as easy to decide it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he didn’t. He could tell himself it was as late as the first time Stu fucked him or as early as the first time he fucked Stu, but the moment he considers it he knows it's not true. It wasn’t even their first kiss, right next to Maureen's corpse. It wasn’t any one moment it was millions of them, amalgamated into this great, heaving mass of tiny indulgences granted and promises broken.

He used to think he was controlled because he was trying so hard to control himself, but he knows better now. He can’t trust himself to stick to the plan or follow his own stupid rules, can’t even trust himself not to turn into a pathetic fucking mess when things go wrong.

Billy woke up weeks before Stu, but he wasn’t awake until Stu opened his eye.

He thought he was fucking hallucinating at first, and then he saw the heart monitor going wild and it was like everything crashed into him at once. It was the relief that hit first, rushing through his blood hot and soaring, filling his lungs so quickly with oxygen that his skin prickled, and it lifted him up, cleared the weeks-old cobwebs from his mind and let the light flood in. It was a stark contrast to the state he'd been in since he woke up, just this fucking husk walking around, cold and rotting from the inside out. But just behind the relief came fear, sweeping him away and leaving him gasping for air. He'd stumbled toward the door, called for help through the buzzing in his ears, and a swarm of nurses descended with a doctor in tow. Just like that he was being shuffled out of the room so they could work.

His mom was supposed to pick him up but he couldn't bring himself to move so he just stood exactly where he'd been planted, staring through the window as the care team poked and prodded the man that had taken every ounce of joy in his life the second he slipped away. The man who had occupied his every thought since he passed out on that burning lawn with a bullet in his chest. He almost felt like he was back there.

Like he was burning alive.

His mom materialized at some point, apparently came to check on him when he didn't meet her out front. She looked relieved when she saw what had kept him, but that turned to concern when she re-focused on his face. It was only when she wiped his cheek that he realized he had been crying, openly in the middle of the fucking hospital like a pathetic little child.

So it wasn’t until that moment, until that paradoxically warm blue gaze was directed at him that he realized he didn’t know how to proceed if Stu was awake.

Not that he knew how to do anything if Stu wasn’t awake either, clearly. He knows it didn’t used to be so bad but he’s been drip feeding himself for years. He’s let Stu put his hands on everything so his fingerprints are everywhere, so he finds Stu’s dumb blond hairs in his underwear and on his shirt. You can’t let anyone paint you that much. The moment they aren’t there the paintings turn into ghosts and you can only see the absence. It’s now that he realizes he’s let Stu paint everything.

His favorite movies, his music, his bedroom, his future. His fucking body-

He didn’t realize that until he lost him.

So everything is painted with Stu and he can’t fucking un-paint it, there’s no way to erase that mark. He can’t just give into it without damning some future self who’s gotten too comfortable, and he can’t just avoid everything that smells of Stu without locking himself in a padded cell.

What he needs to do is change how he feels about all that paint.

So he’s… precarious, sitting in the passenger’s seat of his moms car as she drives them back to Woodsboro. It’s been two months since he left, and he hasn’t spoken to anyone there since. Not that Stu hasn’t called, not that he hasn’t left voicemails, but Billy’s going to delete those. He doesn’t need the fucking temptation.

That’s why he left in the first place. His mom seemed shocked when he asked if he could go back to LA with her, nearly missing a green light on the way back from the hospital that night. She asked if he was sure he didn't want to stick around to see Stu when he was really awake again, and he felt like he was going to vomit as he told her he just needed to get away from Woodsboro for a while. She didn't push it though. She's good like that.

It’s not like he's thriving in L.A or anything, but there are blank slates there, spaces and things that haven’t been painted on at all so he can just exist. Be numb for a while. The numbness never lasts though. All he has to do is touch the little folding knife he can’t bring himself to take out of his pocket. All he has to do is crawl into the left side of his bed and forget for two seconds that the right side will stay empty. So it’s not like LA is safe, nowhere is safe as long as he’s carrying it inside him.

What he needs is an exorcism, but holy water and a prayer isn't going to do it.

He’d been pining, hating himself, lying next to Stu's ghost in his too-cold too-empty bed in L.A when it came to him. He not sure why he never considered it before, but if he wants to make himself hate a particular type of booze, he only has to let himself drink too much of it. That’s why he doesn’t touch rum anymore, he’d let himself get sick with the taste of it still on his tongue and now when he smells it his stomach turns. Why couldn’t he do that with a person?

So in spite of his history and his lack of trust in himself Billy makes one more promise, only this time he also makes himself a provision: he’s allowed to give in, for just one night. He’s going to do all the stupid gay shit that he thinks about when he smokes too much weed, shit he’s never even considered letting himself do before. He’ll get it out of his system, and he’ll move on. For real.

He has to. He doesn’t have a choice, and there's nothing complicated about that.

At least thats what he's telling himself.

Chapter Text

Stu’s not totally sure when he actually woke up, but they tell him it happened on the 31st of October. Kinda funny when you think about it.

Memories between the moment his eyes closed and the moment he realized he was in the hospital were delirious at best. It's just heat, pain, darkness, and Billy’s voice. Billy’s voice saying things he definitely didn’t say because he wouldn’t, right?

You’re not allowed to die yet, y’got that Mutt?

He doesn’t have the brain power to question that in the dark though. In the dark it’s real, wrapping in tight loops around his wrists, his arms, his waist, so he can’t sink any further. And in the darkness he wraps his fingers around it, holds it like it holds him.

Because he’s a good boy and he does what he’s told. And he’s not allowed to die yet.

I need you- I need you to stick around for the after party, ok? You can’t go yet-

That one wraps him up too. That one shakes inside him with the unsteadiness of Billy’s voice, makes it ache in some unknowable place because he barely has a body here, barely has an existence beyond the places where Billy holds him.

He has no sense of time in the dark, has no sense of anything really so he’s not sure how long it is until he starts hearing his sister. He’s not expecting her, but god he’s grateful for her voice. Billy’s voice lives inside him still, echoing those last words in the dark but it’s not as loud as it was the first time he heard it, and the darkness is fuckin' quiet. Stu’s never been a big fan of quiet. Not real quiet at least, not this nothingness. It’s the way it feels to come home when everyone is gone, only he can’t just put on a CD or movie, he can’t do anything but float here out of time, holding on to the threads of Billy’s voice.

But he’s not allowed to die so he won’t.

He listens to his sister instead. They haven’t talked in years, not in a way that matters at least. A couple happy christmases and good to see you’s aren’t the same as an actual conversation and it always feels stilted by his parents presence anyways. Like they can’t say anything real to each other.

He’s heard his mom a few times, his dad once or twice, but it’s only Leslie who talks to him.

She tells him she misses him, and she’s sorry she hasn’t been around. She says it’s not personal, it’s just hard to be home, hard to be around them because they always want her to be someone different. And he gets that. Fuck, he really does.

So when he doesn’t hear his parents he just hears her, telling him about the apartment she moved into with her best friend Claire, and the little grey tabby they adopted together. She tells him she changed her major from business to philosophy, and that he needs to wake up so she can sneak him into the bar down the street because it has an arcade in the back and she thinks he’d love it.

So that’s another reason to hold on.

He hears other things too on and off; nurses, doctors, machines whirring, probably trying to keep him alive. Sometimes he hears nothing, and that’s the worst. Sometimes, even inside himself he drifts off and its terrifying cause he never knows if he’s coming back. How can he? He doesn’t even know where he is.

He’s just come out of one of those the first time he hears Billy’s voice again. He’s not even talking to him this time, he’s just saying hi to Leslie, and maybe Mrs Loomis is there too but Stu’s using everything he’s got left inside to listen for him.

But he doesn’t hear him again, not until he says bye to Leslie. It will be a while until he hears him say anything more than that and longer still until he talks to Stu, but then-

Sorry

And holy shit right? He can’t feel anything but that word hits like a bullet to the gut. He’s heard Billy apologize before, to other people, to Sid, but he’s never heard him mean it. It sounds compulsive, sounds like it just ripped out of him. It almost hurts, makes Stu want to put his hands up and stop him, to reach out and touch his face and tell him it’s ok, and he’s trying, god he’s trying to open his eyes. He doesn’t.

I wanted you to know you did a good job.

And fuck, right? Fuck, he wants to cry but he basically doesn’t even exist and it’s just this phantom ache, nowhere and everywhere at once. Because that’s what he wants the most, what he’s always wanted with Billy and now that he’s getting it he can’t even do anything about it. He wants to laugh, wants to scream, wants to rip out his hair and he can’t do any of that, and if he could feel himself breathing he’d be hyperventilating. He’s trying to stay but he can feel himself falling away, and the dark takes him again.

But Billy comes back. Sometimes he doesn’t say anything, but sometimes he talks, maybe more than Stu’s ever heard him talk before, more open than he’s ever been before, and it’s completely maddening that he can’t talk back. He tells Stu that his mom came back, tells him he’s happy she’s back but it feels weird. He tells him that there are 4 stitches closing the wound that Stu gave him, and he tells him it aches but he doesn’t mind. Then he calls Stu an asshole, which Stu thinks they both know is a term of endearment.

He tells him he talked to the police and they think it’s Sid, and the food at the hospital sucks, and Stu’s mom is annoying, and when he runs out of updates he starts just talking. He monologues theories about the impossible layout of the hotel in the shining, rants about how Alien 3 is more of an Alien movie than the sequel, and christ, isn’t 'Aliens' a stupid title? Sometimes he fills the air like he can’t stand the silence and sometimes it’s like his voice drops out and Stu only knows he stuck around because he always says bye when he leaves.

They go on like that for a while, he’s got no idea how long but, a while. It’s Leslie and Billy, everyday the two of them keeping him company in the dark, and the whole time he’s trying. Trying to move a finger, a toe, trying to open his eyes or force something out of his mouth, and sometimes he can almost feel his body. It doesn’t feel very fuckin' good but in his books its probably better than not feeling it at all. Sometimes he even thinks he’s succeeded in a twitch or the smallest curl of a pinkie but no one says anything about it.

He’s trying not to lose hope because he’s not allowed to die, and fuck he obviously doesn’t want to. He’s only nineteen and Billy said they won, they got away with it and it would be fucking criminal if they didn’t get to celebrate that. Together. But it’s been a long goddamn time, and he still can’t move, still can’t open his eyes and he’s never felt a fear like this before. He can hear it in their voices, they feel it too. They don’t have quite so much to say.

But the next time Billy comes its been one of those days where he can almost feel himself and he’s restless with it. The restlessness only intensifies when Billy breaks the silence by asking him why he can’t wake up, voice harsh like it hurts, and fuck right? I’m trying! He wants to yell, I’m trying so hard! But Billy’s almost yelling himself, saying he wasn’t supposed to leave and sounding half broken, betrayed. Inside himself Stu is thrashing, pulling at all the tethers wrapped around him from Billy, from his sister, and dragging himself through the sludge but it doesn’t feel like he’s getting anywhere-

And I- Jesus christ, I think I love you or something-

For a second he thinks he has actually died. Or he misheard, because he honestly wasn’t sure if he’d ever hear Billy say those words even if he felt them, but he sounds so horrified by himself that it sort of has to be real. Just like that Stu’s moving, clawing his way up, grabbing onto himself and climbing into his flesh for the first time since he went under. He’s trying everything, anything he can to move something, desperate to open his eyes because now of all times he needs to see his face-

“Holy shit,” Billy says, and for the first time in forever light floods Stu’s vision.

At first it’s so much that his head swims and he has to close his eyes again, but none of that matters when the pain sets in because it’s completely blinding anyway. He tries to say something but he only hears a groan, hears a constant beeping, and footsteps.

“Someone get the fuck in here!” Billy’s yelling, sounding farther away again and there are more footsteps coming, voices of doctors and nurses he’d heard while he was under, layering over each other and blending up in his brain. And that’s right about when he passes out again.

The next time he wakes up, Billy isn’t there.

The next time he wakes up it’s just his mom and his sister, and he doesn’t realize he’s lost an eye until he reaches up to touch his face and they tell him what happened. It will be a while until they let him look in a mirror.

The second they let him talk he’s asking where Billy is and his mom tells him he went back to LA with Mrs Loomis, and that sinks him like lead. He left? Before Stu’s stupid brain was fixed enough for him to even look at his face. He said he loved him and then he moved away, which is actually so in character that it would almost be cute if Stu didn’t need him so fucking desperately right now.

He waits till his mom is gone and then he’s immediately asking Leslie if he can borrow her phone, dialling Billy’s number because of course he has it memorized. His heart is in his throat as it rings. And rings. And rings. He doesn’t even know what he’s gonna say because it’s not like he can ask why he left, Billy wouldn’t react well to that. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe he just needs to hear him. The ringing stops and he’s holding his breath until an automated voice comes on and tells him to leave a message after the beep. An automated voice. Right. And then the beep sounds out so it’s recording, and he needs to say something, right?

“Uh- hi. Billy.” His voice cracks and he cringes at himself. Leslie’s looking at him and he’s avoiding her gaze. “Hey, man,” He’s trying again for some reason, squeezing his eye shut to try and focus. “I’m uh- I’m awake now. Guess you knew that though. Um.” Fuck, he’s really making a fool of himself, isn’t he? “Just uh- hope you’re doing good and shit. Call me back.” The last part sounds so pathetic out loud that he finds himself hanging up reflexively, passing the phone back to Leslie with a little more aggression than necessary. He’s still trying not to look at her but he’s starting to think that might seem suspicious so he forces his eyes in her direction and he shrugs.

“He didn’t pick up.” He says, even though it’s pretty fucking obvious from the voicemail he just left. Leslie’s eyebrows are pulled down and the way she’s looking at him it’s like she’s making some kind of calculation

“I’m sure he’ll call back.” She speaks slowly when she answers, carefully. “He was here every day until you woke up.”

And that’s not everything, but it's something. It feels sort of like those threads that held him up in the darkness. He’ll take it. Billy doesn’t call back though, and he doesn’t pick up either. Stu calls every day while he’s in the hospital, leaving messages. He complains about the hospital food, makes shaky little jokes about how fucked up he is, and (pathetically) asks Billy to call him back. He never does, but Stu will keep calling. Every day until he gets out and everyday after that. Until he answers. Until he comes back.

In spite everything else that’s wrong his absence is the worst part, and there’s a fucking lot that’s wrong

It’s not all super obvious at first, he feels so fucked up all over that he basically can’t do anything. He can’t even smile or talk without tugging painfully at the stitches holding his upper lip together. Even when it’s healed enough for him to eat solid food it turns out it’s a lot harder to feed yourself if you can’t tell how far away the fork is. Because you only have one fucking eye and your depth perception is totally screwed.

That’s not the only thing though, not by far, because his fingers and hands feel like they don’t even belong to him and his handwriting looks like it did when he was just learning to write. And even that is nothing compared to the headaches, the nausea, the way his memory is riddled with holes, and god, the mood swings.

Cause yeah he’s been known to have a temper when he’s pushed to the edge, but these days there’s always something viscous on his tongue, loaded in the chamber and moving too fast for him to stop it even if he knows he'll regret it later. He yells at his mom when she tells him he’ll look more normal when they get him a glass eye, he yells at his sister when she tells him to keep his head up, and he yells at his physical therapist for pretty much everything. He doesn’t want to train himself to turn his head extra far so he can see whats in the periphery, doesn’t want to force new habits to compensate for what's gone but when he’s not careful he can't even pour OJ in a cup because he misses the fucking cup. And sure, things do get a little easier over time but it doesn’t make him feel any better that he can tie his stupid sneakers the day they let him leave the hospital. Even if it takes him a couple tries.

They didn’t keep the glass they pulled out of his brain, but they let him take a copy of the scan that shows it all embedded, piercing through his cracked skull. He puts it on the wall in his new bedroom. It’s the only thing there.

He’d known the old house burnt down, he has nightmares about the heat, the flames licking up his legs and eating him alive. Everyone wants to tell him that it’s a miracle he survived it, but it’s the cops that tell him Billy dragged him out. That knowledge squeezes at his chest so urgently that he can’t even speak for a few moments. It’s one of the things that would have kept him from tearing his hair out if they hadn’t shaved it all off for the surgery.

It’s one thing to know his house is gone, but it’s not really real until Leslie drives him to the rental property when it’s time to take him home. It isn’t home. His new room has blank walls and empty shelves. It has a mattress Billy’s never been curled up on and a new TV without any of the stickers they’d plastered onto his old one.

He can tell his sister is trying to make it better, coming home with tapes to replace the ones that got all melted to shit, trying to joke with him and letting him pick the music when she drives him to the hospital for check ups and physical therapy. But she only has to drive him cause they took away his driver’s license because of his eye, and now he’s going to have to take the test again to get it back. He knows she’s doing her best, and she’s doing a better job than their parents. They’ve stuck around to oversee the re-build of the old house, and apparently to be there for him, but they're better with real-estate than they are with the fact that their only son is broken and fucking depressed.

Its a whole god damn fight when it comes time to get him his glass eye. His mom spends about two hours trying to convince him that he should get one to match the other one, and before he might have folded just to shut her up, but now it makes him so angry that he storms off and slams his door hard enough to bust one of the hinges. She doesn’t look happy the next morning, but she gives up and they fit him for a blank eye, just plain white glass. He doesn’t want to try to look the way he did before. He’s never going to and he knows it, even though he’s still avoiding mirrors he’s traced the fused up lines on his face with his fingers and he knows he’s been changed forever.

And all of that might be manageable if Billy would answer his fucking phone, but Stu’s been calling him since he was awake enough to speak and at some point his stupid fucking voicemail fills up. The night that happens he breaks his new tv, shoves it off the stand so the cord rips out of the wall and the screen cracks, and then he just stands there, leaking from his one functional eye as he stares down at it.

And here’s the thing; you gotta have a lot of faith to be in love with Billy Loomis. It’s not the first time he’s run away, he’s been doing that for years. He’s just never gone so far as moving to another part of the state before. Usually he just ignores him at school and doesn’t come over to hang out, sometimes he’d make a show of hanging out with Sid more, like he did before they fucked for the first time. It sucks obviously, and it's not like it got easier when he got used to it, but all he needs to do is hold on long enough to wait him out.

Only this time he’s recovering from brain surgery.

Only this time he’s finally facing his own reflection and he doesn’t recognize himself. All he wants is to make a joke about his fucked up face with the only person who would laugh about it. He wants to tell Billy he gave up that left eye after all, wants to feel his fingers on all those new scars, to replace the ache with pain that means something, and every time the tree outside taps on his window he looks up fast, desperately hoping that Billy will start pushing it open to climb inside.

He doesn’t, and it hurts more than any of his many healing wounds. He spends hours with the lights off, lying on his back on a bed that still doesn’t feel like his own, palm pressed against the scars Billy gave him- the new ones on his stomach or arm, the B on his chest, those old familiar white ones on his hip, and he tells himself he just has to wait. He’ll be back. He always comes back.

And he’s doing ok, he’s alive and he can tie his stupid shoes again, but then the funerals start in late November, and he just sort of breaks. It’s Randy’s first. And fuck, now of all times he can’t say he doesn’t miss the guy. He’s known him since they were kids, he’s just always been there but now he’s not anymore. And on top of that? It’s the first time he’s really been out around people who aren’t his family and he wasn't ready for the way people would look at him. Some of them don’t. But a lot of them do.

After Randy it’s Himbry, Casey and Steve, Weathers too but he didn’t go to that one. And the whole time he’s just thinking Billy is supposed to be here, looking like a wet dream in a black suit and giving him eyes over the casket, but he’s not there and no one else is in on the fucking joke. There’s no one to laugh with so it’s not a celebration it’s just… a funeral. That’s all.

They bury Dewey and Tatum on the same day, and he cries that day. He isn’t expecting to or meaning too, but it just breaks out of him. It wouldn’t have if Billy hadn’t fucking left him to do everything on his own, except for the fact that Tatum was the one who would have been at his side when Billy disappeared, and now there's an empty casket under her tombstone because the explosion in the garage meant there wasn't anything to bury. Mr and Mrs Riley invite him back to their house for the wake but he tells them his head hurts and he needs to go to sleep. They tell him it’s ok but they seem to be doing everything they can to avoid looking at his face.

He doesn’t feel any better at home. Honestly behind his closed door he feels so much worse that he almost thinks he should have gone, and maybe he should just go hang out with Leslie for the distraction but instead he pulls out his new phone and he dials Billy’s number. He’s past hoping that Billy’s gonna answer so his stomach only drops a little when the automated voicemail message starts to play and for the millionth time he wishes Billy would have just recorded an answering message himself.

God, I miss your voice. And he knew before he dialled that he wouldn’t be able to leave a message, but then the voicemail full message starts to play for maybe the hundredth time and something snaps.

He’s pushing himself up, pulling on a hoodie and running downstairs, yelling that he’s going for a walk when his mom asks what he's doing and marching out the front door without a pause. He can’t take the car but he can’t ask someone to drive him so he just walks, thirty minutes all the way across town in the dark, hands balled into fists in his pockets and a phantom burn behind his left eye. It’s close to ten when he gets to Billy’s house, but the lights are on in the living room so he rings the bell. Four or five times in quick succession.

“I’m coming, Jesus-” Hank is barking, half muffled before he throws open the door. His mouth drops open briefly when his gaze lands on Stu’s face, but then he sets his jaw and crosses his arms. “Macher.” It’s curt, but the lack of concern is almost refreshing. “Billy isn’t here, he moved back to LA with his mother.”

“Hey Mr Loomis.” He says, mostly to piss Hank off because it’s obvious he wants to get rid of him. He lets his hood fall back and smiles, just because it seems to make people uncomfortable. “I was just wondering if Billy has a new phone number?” It doesn’t really make sense and on some level he knows it but there has to be something he can fucking do to get to him, right? “Because he’s not-”

“Not as far as I know.” Hank cuts in, hand on the door handle like he’s getting ready to close it. “If he’s not answering you then he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Stu feels himself recoil a little, feels his mouth twist out of his smile and his pulse picks up the way it does so easily these days.

“Well do you have his new address?” His jaw is tight when he speaks, and Loomis is shaking his head before he’s even finished.

“No. And I have work in the morning so I think it’s time for you to head home.” And then he closes the fucking door.

“You’re a dick, Hank!” He’s yelling before he can stop himself, he wants to kick down the goddamn door and find the nearest kitchen knife but he doesn’t, and Hank doesn’t bother to respond. He punches a tree instead, and then he walks back down the street to circle around through the woods. Billy’s room is on the first floor, and his window is always unlocked.

He feels like he’s having a flashback as he climbs through the window, and for a second its September, and he’s terrified that Billy isn’t going to be let out of jail. He’s waiting for him, listening to his music and needing to see him so fucking bad, and then Stu’s back, more than two months since that night, knowing for a fact that Billy won’t show up tonight.

He was afraid that his room would be bare, but it isn’t not completely. A lot of his stuff is gone- mostly clothing, his walkmen, and a bunch of CD’s. A fair number of movies, but fewer than he would have expected. All of his posters are still on the wall, and his bed is unmade. There’s dust on his nightstand and clothing in his laundry hamper, like no one has been here since he left.

He feels like a ghost, sitting down on Billy’s bed in the dark, pulling off his shoes and curling up in the indent he left behind on the mattress. He presses his aching face into the pillow and inhales deep, but it’s been too long and any trace of Billy that he could smell is so faint that he’s not even sure it’s there. That’s really all it takes for him to start crying, yanking the blanket over his head and trying to swallow the sounds that want to rip out of him, and fuck, why did you have to leave? I need you this time, it’s so fucking hard and I need you.

Which really just sums it up. That’s all it is, he fucking needs him. If he came back he wouldn’t even be mad, he’d just be relieved.

So he cries himself dry and then he forces himself up, grabs a t-shirt from the hamper, and climbs back out the window. He stuffs the T-shirt into his hoodie, looping back through the woods to walk along the road.

His body feels like it weighs about a thousand pounds more than it did before he got here and crushed himself a little further into the dirt, and fuck it was probably really stupid of him to walk here. He gets exhausted way too easily these days and his head is really starting to hurt, and as if that doesn’t suck enough he’s only been walking for about five minutes when the sky cracks open.

He’s drenched in seconds, and the rain is freezing cold, and he’s really not feeling well now. He’s getting shaky and his fingers are going numb, and it would be so fucking dumb to die on the side of the road after everything he’s survived.

And besides that Stu’s not allowed to die.

So he keeps walking, and something must be looking out for him because he doesn’t get that far before he hears a car coming up behind him. He steps off the road and he’s considering flagging it down, but it turns out he doesn’t even have to because it’s already slowing to stop next to him.

“Stu?” The window rolls down and its fucking Tammy Beckett. The one person left alive in Woodsboro who would piss Billy off the most. “The fuck are you doing out here dude? Do you need a ride?”

“Y-yeah-” His teeth chatter when he tries to speak, and Tammy’s immediately throwing open the passenger side door so he doesn’t hesitate to climb in and close it behind him.

“Shit, you look awful-” Tammy’s saying, reaching behind her to grab a beach towel thrown over the back seat. She hands it to him and looks him in the eye, not cringing at all. “Not because of your face- or I mean, maybe. Your lips look a little blue, are they always like that now? Cause I think that’s a sign of hypothermia, lemme turn on the heat.” She reaches forward, flicking it on so the vents start to hum and blast a jet of hot air at his face as he does his best to towel the rest of himself dry. “That eye looks creepy as hell by the way, it’s pretty rad. Are you a scanner now? You gonna make my head explode?”

He startles himself with laughter, he hasn’t been doing that so much these days and it feels fucking good. Like he can breathe for a second.

“Nah, not here to suck your brain dry. S’just the whole near death experience thing, they always give you psychic powers after that.” He says, lifting his tingling fingers up to the air vent.

“Damn,” Tammy’s bouncing her eyebrows, starting up the car again and pulling out to keep driving. “Maybe I should get someone to hit me with their car or something, I’ve always wanted to have more than five senses.”

“Looks great on college applications,” He’s snickering, maybe for the first time in months. “The Ivy leagues go wild for a harbinger of doom.”

“Yeah I’ve heard that.” She quips, and the next time she glances over it’s like she’s studying him. “So why the fuck were you out here in the rain?”

Because I needed Billy.

“Just… goin’ for a walk, get off my dick about it.” He probably doesn’t need to snap at her. Kinda feels bad after he says it but she just raises her eyebrows at him.

“I’m not on your dick, Macher, been there, done that. No offence.” God, she really hasn’t changed at all. “I was just trying to be nice, you’re the one wandering around in the dark looking like the living dead.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, looks away. He’s honestly trying to play it off. “Don’t worry about the wandering, comes with the harbinger territory. Y’know, gotta be out here to warn the teens away from the old Macher house.” She makes an expression of mock-understanding.

“Right, cause teens always listen to harbingers.” She says. “Where am I taking you, by the way? Y’know, since the old Macher house burnt down.” Blunt as ever.

“Renting a place on Roxbury.” He says, and despite the smile his voice is a little tight. There’s a moment of silence before Tammy glances over again.

“...Gotta be weird. After everything.” She says, half-prying, half-concerned. “Losing your house.” I’ve lost worse. There’s a second where his throat closes up and something rushes forward but he’s not going there right now.

“I mostly just miss my shit.” He forces a sigh, letting his forehead rest against the window. “And the cat.”

“Shit, your cat died too?” This statement is pure concern, no prying. He’d never even considered that possibility but it would be his luck, wouldn’t it? He doesn’t remember seeing her in the house that night but his memory is still a little spotty in parts, and it wasn’t abnormal for her to sneak in for a nap on his bed or in the garage crawl space

“I fuckin’ hope not-” The headache from before is only getting worse. He lifts his forehead from the window and bonks it back again. It definitely doesn’t help. “She was a stray, she used to come in the doggy door sometimes. Dunno if she was in the house when, uh…”

“Yeah. ” Tammy speaks fast, which he appreciates. “Does she have a name? Like one she responds to? I’d drive you over if you want to look for her.” She glances over at him and the side of her mouth quirks up. “Not tonight obviously, you still look like a corpse. Tomorrow?” She asks.

“Yeah actually, that’d be rad, Tam.” He says that and he means it. If he finds that fucking cat he’s bringing her home and he doesn’t give a shit what his mom has to say about it.

“Least I can do.” Tammy says, suddenly grinning in a way that doesn’t match the situation. “Y’know, since I deflowered you.”

“Ha!” His laughter blasts out like a trumpet horn, half-startling him. “Yeah you definitely owe me for that, I was so fuckin’ pure before. Now no one will want to marry me.”

“Nah, you’re a rich kid Macher. I’m sure daddy can pay off some nice-” she hesitates for a second, but she recovers fast. “Person to hitch your sorry ass.”

Person. Huh.

In the bizarro parallel universe where his dad’s ok with the fact that he’s into dudes he’s still not sure there’s enough money in the world to get Billy Loomis to say yes to a marriage proposal. Not that it’s even legal for dudes to get hitched to each other here.

“-shit, sorry.” Tammy’s saying, pulling him back out of his head. “Was that too soon? Y’know. Cause your girlfriend just died.” She clarifies, earnest, and Stu laughs his ass off.

The rest of the drive goes quickly. Time passes easily with Tammy, it’s just easy to be around her in a way he wasn’t expecting. It’s like, she’s not trying to pretend everything’s the same as it used to be, but she isn’t treating him like cracked china either.

Predictably Leslie’s the only one who waited up for him, she’s sitting in the living room pretending to watch tv when he walks in the front door. The relief on her face is so obvious he almost feels bad for stressing her out, but he can’t bring himself to regret going to Billy’s place. That shirt is still tucked inside his jacket.

“Hey buddy,” Leslie’s muting the Tv. She’s been calling him that since he was six.

He remembers when they first moved into the old house it seemed so big, so much bigger than he was. His room felt massive compared to the one back home in North Carolina, all these dark corners lighting up the worst parts of his imagination. He had a lot of nightmares back then. Bad ones where something awful would come crawling out of his closet, one of the wolves his dad taught him to fear when they went out to set snares, and he’d only wake up when the thing started unhinging its jaw to eat him alive. He always woke up screaming.

But that’s when his door would start to open and Leslie would step in. Hey buddy. His mom never came to check on him when she was home and he always told himself it was because she couldn’t hear him from the master bedroom. But Leslie always came. She’d climb into bed with him, rub his back and tell him stories until he could pass out again, then she’d sneak back to her own room before morning. He didn’t really know why at the time but in retrospect he thinks she was probably hiding it from their dad. Big Bob’s been telling him to man up since he was old enough to talk.

“Hey Les.” He was gonna walk past her, head straight upstairs with his pathetic little bit of stolen Loomis memorabilia, but he finds himself walking over to sit next to her on the new couch. He’s never fallen asleep cuddled up with Billy on this couch. He misses the old one.

“Oh come on, man, you’re soaked, you’re making everything wet!” Leslie’s laughing, sticking a foot up to shove him away when he gets near.

“I can’t believe you’d kick me!” He’s laughing a little too now, pushing her foot away. “Right in the stab wound,” He groans, clutching his stomach like it hurt but really her foot was nowhere near the stitches and she barely put any force behind it. “That’s low, sis. Guess you don’t really love me after all.” Leslie rolls her eyes at him and he gives her the finger as he turns to head up stairs.

The complaining was only on principle, he was fucking freezing and it feels a lot better to be dry and swallowing painkillers. He’s still very much awake though, and it will be a while until the pills kick in so he heads back downstairs after he tucks Billy’s t-shirt under his pillow.

This time when he approaches Leslie scoots aside to make room for him on the couch. She’s watching the X-files with the sound down low and the subtitles on. They sit in silence for a few minutes, but Leslie’s kinda fidgety so he’s just waiting for her to say whatever's on her mind .

“…Hey Stu?” She finally breaks the silence, and the tone of her voice almost immediately puts him on edge. She’s not looking at him but there’s a crease in her brow. She’s worried.

“Yeah?” He keeps his eye on the screen too, trying not to frown.

“Where’d you go tonight?” God, everyone needs to know huh? She sounds tentative when she asks, like she’s breaking bad news. Like she knows it’s a question he won’t want to answer.

“Just needed a walk.” He makes himself sound calm. He thinks it’s almost convincing.

“Stu…” Her voice is strained, like she’s pushing it out. When he glances at her she’s bending the tab of her pop can back and forth in a way that seems semi-frantic, and he feels his shoulders hunch up. “I- fuck, I don’t know how else to say this. I’m worried, ok? I’m worried about you.”

“Dude,” He wants to recoil but that will only make it worse, so he forces a laugh instead. It sounds cold. “I know I look like roadkill but I’m fine, ok?” Apparently he’s a bad actor though, she’s fully turning to face him now.

“Billy hasn’t called you back, has he?” It feels like a slap in the face and this time he actually does recoil.

“That’s none of your fucking business,” He’s snapping, stomach turning. His nails are digging into his palms.

“Stu,” Her voice trembles on his name and the pop tab snaps off in her hand. She sounds like she’s pleading. “I’m not trying to like, rub it in, I’m just- he’s your best friend, and everyone else is…gone, and you’re alone so much lately, ” She sounds like she’s pleading and there’s a guilty weight settling into him but it’s nowhere near as pressing as the panic in his chest. “I know you don’t like being alone, I’m just-” Holy shit, he really can’t hear any more of this.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, you’ve barely been around for the past four years.” The moment it comes out he knows it’s low. He knows why she hasn’t been here. He wouldn’t have been here if he’d had the choice either, but right now he just needs her to back the hell off.

“I- I’m sorry, buddy,” No, fuck, please don’t call me that right now- “I’m so fucking sorry. I know I haven’t been around but, god, you’re my baby brother, ok?” She sounds like she might be about to cry and he’s squeezing his eye shut, he wants to put his hands over his ears like he’s a fucking child. “I thought I lost you, Stu. Forever.” Ok fuck, fuck, she’s definitely crying now and he’s just trying to breathe, staring at the unfamiliar carpet between his feet. “I can’t do that again, I can’t-” She cuts herself off, draws in a wet gulp of air. “Look. The doctors warned me that sometimes after people go through… they said sometimes people hurt themselves after. And the surgeon said you… had scars. Old scars, and they didn’t look accidental, they looked-” Fuck. Fuck no, Jesus Christ-

“I’m not gonna kill myself, Leslie!" I'm not allowed. "Ok? So you can back the fuck off. ” His throat feels like it’s closing now and he’s standing, he’s not sure when he did that. “Leave it! I’m fucking fine.”

“Stu, please-” She’s pleading again, he’s halfway across the room and she’s right behind him, reaching out to grab his sleeve. He can tell by the look on her face that she’s not going to take that for an answer, so he forces himself to breathe.

“I’m hanging out with a friend tomorrow.” At least he’s not yelling. “Ok? So lemme go. I need to sleep.” He yanks out of her grip and she lets go fast, like he burned her, brow furrowing.

“I just want you to know I’m here.” He’s at the base of the stairs when she speaks up again. Her voice is so soft, so apologetic that it cuts the tension running up his spine and he just feels tired, exhausted all at once. “I know I haven’t been, but I am now.” She’s looking at him, not blinking, clasping her hands together like she’s trying not to grab him again. She’s doing her best, and in spite of everything, this whole bullshit conversation that he hasn’t even half processed yet, he finds himself nodding.

“Yeah, ok.” He’s saying, and he can’t look her in the eye anymore so he looks over her shoulder. “Ok.” He says. And because he knows she’s trying, because he means it: “Love you sis.” Leslie’s got her arms around him before he can finish the sentence.

“Love you too, man.” Leslie speaks into his sweater, squeezing him tight for a second before she lets go, giving him a little shove. “Ok, go to bed or whatever. Sweet dreams.” He seriously doubts his dreams will be sweet, they rarely are these days but he appreciates the sentiment.

He feels half numb by the time he gets to his bedroom. These days the feelings come fast, rushing up inside him and busting out but after he’s just hollow inside. Static. No signal. He wonders if that’s how Billy feels stuff. It kind of fucking sucks but there’s also something semi-functional about it. Not the outbursts, the numbness that follows.

Like, his sister just told him she thinks he might be suicidal or something, and the smell of Billy is already starting to dissipate from his shirt, being replaced by his own smell every time he lifts it to his face and breathes in. On some level he knows that he despises that, he expects that whenever the static dissipates he’ll feel sick about it, but right now? It’s kind of just shit, that sucks, but there’s nothing behind it.

So he’s just lying in his dumb new bed, clutching Billy’s shirt to his chest, and thinking everything or nothing at all until he passes out. As predicted he doesn’t have sweet dreams. It’s just the usual though: burning, falling into the blackness, Billy bleeding out at Sid’s feet. It’s not fun but it’s nothing new. When he wakes up he feels like shit, but his skin isn’t melting and he isn’t in a coma. When he dies in the dream he doesn’t die in real life, and Billy is alive somewhere in LA. Sid is dead, burnt the fuck up like she deserves.

And regardless he’s got shit to do today. He’s got a cat to find.

It’s kinda hilarious the way his mom’s face lights up when Tammy comes by to pick him up. She must be as desperate as Leslie to see him socializing cause she used to fucking hate Tammy. Apparently she was the wrong kind of girl for him, but then again his mom’s had something shitty to say about every girl he’s ever brought home. Pretty rich that she thinks she has a say, though. An open door policy doesn’t mean shit if no one’s around to enforce it, and as far as he’s concerned she’s just lucky he didn’t knock any of them up.

She’s always liked Billy alright though, funny enough. Said a bunch of shit about him being such a nice boy for visiting while he was knocked out in the hospital. He’s pretty sure she’d change her opinion if she knew they’d fucked on pretty much every surface of the house she so carefully decorated, but all that shit is ash now. So. Yeah.

She probably still wouldn’t approve of the anal though.

He pulls on his sneakers and tries not to feel proud as he ties them, then he’s tugging on a hoodie and stepping outside. Tammy’s blasting something from her car and he can hear it the moment he opens the front door. Sounds like some chick rock shit.

“Hurry up dude,” She’s hanging out the driver’s side window, slapping the side of the car as soon as she sees him walking across the lawn towards her. “you lost an eye, not a leg!”

“Hey fuck you!” He shouts back but he does put a little hustle in his step, and he’s grinning as he slides into the passenger seat.

“Gracious as always.” Tammy is rolling her eyes as she starts the car, drumming along to the song as she pulls out of the driveway. The song ends and she reaches forward to play the track again. Huh.

“The hell are you making me listen to?” He’s snorting, leaning back in his seat as they pick up speed. “This bitch sounds like she’s on the rag.”

“How dare you, Alannis is the queen.”

“Of england?”

“Shut up, you’re such a fucking man.” She lifts a hand off the wheel to give him the finger. “I’m gonna have you singing along by the time we get to your old place. This song is therapy, Macher. Which you clearly need.”

“Jesus. Ok,” He throws up his hands in surrender but he’s still snickering. “Are you on the rag?”

“No, dipshit, I’m a woman scorned.” She jabs him in the arm, pretty fucking hard. Kinda reminds him of Billy for a second but he tucks that thought away before it can depress him. “Hell hath no fury or whatever. Now stop being annoying, you have a song to learn.” With that Tammy cranks up the volume and she starts singing.

So here’s the thing, Tammy isn’t exactly the best singer. She’d tell you that herself but she’s basically just yelling right now. She’s like, really into it, drumming on the steering wheel and glaring out the windshield like it’s personal.

“Seriously Tam, who pissed in your Wheaties?” He’s laughing, he kinda can’t help it. He thinks she might be about to arch her back and hiss at him.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” She snaps. “Get your head in the game, I expect you to be harmonizing by the third play-through.”

He’s still snickering, shaking his head at her and her and thinking fat chance, but by round 2 he’s playing the air guitar, chiming in on the bits he recognizes, cause honestly? This shit kinda slaps. Kinda hits just exactly right for him at the moment. By round three they’re both drumming on the dashboard, screaming the lyrics at each other when Tammy takes her eyes off the road at intersections.

“Would she go down on you in a theatre?” That’s his favorite line; and he’s not thinking of anyone in particular as he yells it out so hard his vocal cords ache. He’s not, fuck off.

He's feeling pretty good until Tammy turns onto the road that leads to the old house, and then his stomach starts to crawl up his throat. They’re nearing the end of the song as the tree line opens to empty sky in the place where his home used to be, and he’d meant to keep singing but his voice just kind of cuts out. Tammy reaches forward to hit stop on the stereo.

“You ready?” She looks a lot more gentle than she did before.

“Yeah, definitely.” He sounds less sure of himself than he’d meant to, but he’s turning and opening the car door before she can question it.

The house he grew up in is completely gone. Like. Everything. The ash and rubble has all been cleared away, which sort of makes sense, it’s been months since the house burnt down. But that’s what he’d been expecting to see. The corpse.

But it’s already been buried, and the bones of something new stand on top of the grave. Somehow that’s worse, the fact that his dad’s already got this far on the rebuild. He doesn’t know why.

“Hey,” Tammy’s hand is on his shoulder and it brings him back a little. “What’s the cat’s name again?”

“Jonesy.” He says, and he’s thinking maybe this was a bad idea. Why the fuck would the cat still be hanging around? There’s nothing for her here, she’s probably somewhere else, going in someone else’s doggy door.

“Stu?” Tammy’s talking to him, but it takes him a bit too long to react. “Stu, man, where are you? Are you having a vision or something?”

“Sorry,” He says this like he has more to say but it turns out he doesn’t, so he just stands there, staring at the foundation of the new house without really seeing it.

“Y’know cats can smell things from miles away?” Tammy's squeezing his shoulder.

“What?” His voice cracks and he might be embarrassed if he wasn’t sort of half out of his body.

“Yeah, they have a better sense of smell than dogs do, nobody knows that.” He has no idea why she’s telling him this but he's listening. “See, I brought some cat treats so I’m thinking we leave some here, maybe Jonesy sniffs em’ out. If we keep coming back and leaving them here odds are we’ll run into her, right?” He’s not so dense that he can’t recognize what this is. She’s giving him an excuse to leave without looking around because she knows he can’t just tell her he needs to retreat.

“Yeah, ok.” He says, but he’s not just going to let himself cower. “Gimme,” He holds his hand out palm up and she passes over a plastic sandwich bag full of cat treats.

He’s gripping that bag a little too tightly in his fist as he walks across the lawn. The grass hasn’t grown back yet, there’s just these big patches of charred brown soil. He wonders where they found him and Billy and then he averts his eye, turning it to the tree line on the far side of the property. He’s heading for Jonesy’s tree stump.

He used to see her sunning herself on it, so he’s figuring it’s the place she’d be most likely to come back to. He dumps Tammy’s cat treats out onto it and turns around to walk back. He’s had his moment of bravery, he doesn’t need anymore today.

“Wanna go for milkshakes?” Tammy asks him this as she starts the car up again.

He does, he really does.

She almost takes them to the diner he used to go to on those silly ass double dates he and Billy used to do with Sid and Tatum, but he tells her that the milkshakes are better at the one on the other side of town. She tells him he’s wrong and she’s right, he’s lying but he just can’t go back there. She changes direction anyway though.

And in the end? It’s pretty good, it’s comfortable, and he kinda really fuckin needs the comfort right now. He thinks maybe Tammy feels bad for him cause when he tells her he hasn’t been able to get high since he lost his license she drives him out to meet his guy the next town over. Then she drives him home to a chick rock soundtrack that he might be kind of getting into, and he leaves her with a couple nugs for thanks.

Overall? It’s the best day he’s had in a while.

It’s especially nice that he can roll himself a joint when he gets home. According to his physical therapist he’s come a long way with the fine motor skills since October, and it’s probably still the worst joint he’s rolled since he was fifteen but holy fuck that shit hits hard after two months without it. He’s so fucking high that Leslie takes one look at him and rolls her eyes, but he hasn’t laughed so easily since he woke up and the resulting munchies override the constant low-grade nausea he’s had for the past month so he ends up devouring half a tub of ice cream in bed watching Chucky.

Things turn up a little after that. Kinda. Leslie was right, he needed a friend.

It’s not like everything is better but he’s got a little more direction and an ounce of motivation to go with it. A big part of that is Jonesy. Tammy brings him a few times a week and Les starts bringing him too sometimes, and he still hasn’t seen her yet but the food he leaves keeps disappearing and last week he could have sworn he saw a flash of orange against the tree line. So he’s going to keep trying.

He’s been going back to Billy’s place too. He doesn’t bother trying to talk to Hank again, dudes always had a hate-on for him so he just invites himself in through Billy’s window and takes naps in his bed. There’s something comforting about it, even though the smell of him is long gone it’s like Stu can still feel the imprint of his body on the mattress, and he sleeps a little better when he fits himself into it.

So time passes, and he does his stupid little exercises, he smokes his clumsy joints and he drinks milkshakes with Tammy, and just like that it’s mid-December and his parents are telling him that they’re leaving for the Bahamas on boxing day. That’s nothing new, but it’s actually the first time they’ll be leaving since he woke up in October, and he’s sort of looking forward to it. Cause yeah, it doesn’t feel good that they’re always gone, really doesn’t feel good when they miss his birthday, but he’s gotten used to them being away and now that they’ve been back for so long it feels like he’s living with strangers.

It’s like… his mom’s got no idea that he’s not into comics anymore, and he hasn’t cracked one of those since he was twelve. He doesn’t even have his old ones, he gave them all to Randy. She mostly treats him like he’s still a kid now that he’s thinking about it, fucking tells him to go brush his teeth and tries to make him wait for dinner when he starts eating chips in the afternoon. As if she has any right to act like his parent now, after all these fucking years.

And his dad? It’s not like his dad’s ever been super warm but they used to have a good time when Stu didn’t do anything to piss him off. Granted, most of what they did together was hunt, and no ones going to let him go out in the woods with a gun in his current state so his dad kind of doesn’t know what to do with him. He ends up trying to talk to him about football, and Stu knows fuck all about football so that doesn’t go anywhere and after that he seems to mostly give up. Stu thinks he’s maybe making an effort to be nicer, like, he’s yelling a little less even though Stu’s not exactly been showing respect. It’s like he doesn’t have anything left now that he can’t yell at him anymore though.

So yeah, he’s not mad they’ll be gone for a while. He’s expecting they’ll be on the road again by January or February as long as he doesn’t kill himself while they’re away this time. And Leslie’s not leaving, she makes it a promise to him that she’ll stick around and he really fucking appreciates that.

So Christmas isn’t as bad as it could be. He has to endure a conversation about when he’s going back to school, and the follow up: has he been thinking about college applications? Because apparently it doesn’t matter what happens to you, the world just keeps going and you have to pick yourself up and go with it or you get left behind. He manages to brush it off, he’s not ready to tell them he isn't going to the old alma mater whether they pay his way in or not.

After that it’s smooth sailing though. he watches reruns of old cartoons with Leslie, he smokes himself stupid, and he starts doodling stuff. He used to draw a lot when he was younger and he just kind of stopped but he’s got stuff in his head he wants to put on paper this time. Tammy’s still in town so they hang out a lot too, wandering around the mall or watching MTV for hours in her basement after going out to check for Jonesy. The big day comes and goes with turkey and a shitload of presents, and just like that he’s waking up on the 26th and his parents have already left for the airport.

Leslie makes them both pancakes and then demands he share some of his weed, and it’s kind of awesome actually. He never really thought he’d be getting high with his sister but it makes for an incredible game of Pictionary. It’s around 7PM when Leslie’s roommate Claire shows up and they disappear to her bedroom in the basement pretty quick, so he just hangs out watching whatever until he gets bored. It’s a little early for him but he’s honestly considering going to bed when he hears a knock on the front door.

He’s not expecting anyone this late so he definitely isn’t expecting Billy Loomis, but there he is.

He almost looks like he did the last time he saw him, only his hair is longer and the shadows under his eyes are deeper. He doesn’t look real.

“H-hi…” Stu’s voice comes out small and rough. He’s not sure when he last blinked. He’s worried that maybe if he does Billy will disappear again.

Billy hasn’t blinked either though. He's just staring, and it’s at this moment that Stu remembers what he looks like these days. His stomach drops and he almost wants to close the door only Billy’s already stepping through it, already so close, close enough to touch but Stu’s hands are glued to his sides.

“Stu,” It’s the first time he’s heard his voice in months, saying his name of all things and still neither of them has blinked. He doesn’t notice Billy’s lifting a hand until cold fingers meet his cheek.

He almost flinches away but his body remembers. Billy. Those fingers are light, tracing over the scar on his jaw up to the one that splits his lips, palm cupping his cheek so two fingers press against his pulse on the side of his neck and his thumb strokes over the deepest scar, the one under his missing eye. He hasn’t let anyone touch those scars, he barely touches them himself and there’s something about that that makes him brave enough to look back at his face.

Because Billy doesn’t touch him like that, not usually, especially not with the front door open behind him and his sister downstairs.

He’s still staring, but it’s not the way other people stare, not even close. His lips are parted, just a little and his pupils are wide, flicking rapidly over Stu's face. He doesn’t look disgusted, or disturbed, or like he pities him at all. Billy’s cheeks are pink, and it’s not that cold out.

“Fuck.” He says it like a compliment.

Stu feels his chest expand as he sucks in a breath, and Billy blinks hard, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Not used to you comin’ in the front door.” You’re more of a backdoor man, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Instead he laughs. It sounds nervous.

“Yeah, well.” Billy shrugs, looks away. “New house. Didn’t know which window was yours.”

“Shit, right. Yeah. New uh- new house.” He says, which is stupid. Fucking stupid, Billy’s back and all he can do is stumble over himself.

“Well? You just gonna make me stand here or you gonna invite me in?” Billy pops his eyebrows, smirks, and for a second it’s like nothing has changed at all.

“I- shit, yeah. Sorry.” Come on, get it together. He clears his throat and puffs up his chest, stepping aside and sweeping out an arm to invite him in. “Come in my lord!” It’s stupid, but he’s trying. Fuck I love you and I wanna say it, but that’s such a bad idea right now, and did you really say it to me? Was I hallucinating?

“Piss off, m’lady.” Billy steps past him, shaking his head and snickering, and god, that’s just the best sound, so fucking good he feels himself bounce on his toes and he hasn’t done that in months. Hasn’t had a reason to.

Billy’s got a backpack on, and as he pulls it off Stu falls back on habit like it’s all his body can do. Even after all this time it's automatic to drop to his knees in front of him and untie his shoes. He doesn't recognize these ones. They’re new.

He’s just pulling the first one off when he hears Billy hum and looks up to see him looking down. He’s biting his lip, and his cheeks aren’t any less pink than they were before. Stu looks away before he can say something stupid. He gets both shoes off and when he stands up Billy passes him his coat, he’s letting Stu do the thing and fuck if there aren’t butterflies hatching in his stomach. He’s facing the closet, hanging up the coat when Billy speaks again.

“Good boy.” Holy shit.

He straight up shivers at that, there’s no way to hide it. Behind him Billy laughs, low and soft, and it feels like the gravity got turned off, like he might just start floating.

“F-fuck,” He breathes, turns around, and there he is. Still standing there, still alive, real, tangible. Still smirking.

“One-track mind as always, huh Mutt?” Mutt. God it’s so good to hear that again, he can’t stop the mile-wide grin stretching his cheeks and Billy’s gaze drops to his mouth.

His smile doesn’t look the way it used to, he knows that. The scars don’t cut into his dimples but they change the way his face moves and they make the split in his lip all that much more obvious than it is when his mouth is in a neutral position. Again, just like when he opened the door there’s a second where his stomach drops, only Billy’s cheeks are still pink. His eyebrows are drawn down, and Stu knows what that expression means.

“Fuck, Billy-“ It’s not what he means to say but his brain is hardly working.

“Maybe,” Billy’s eyes narrow and it turns his smile into something devious. “If you’re lucky. Gotta take me to your room first though.”

God. Stu’s dick is paying so much attention, and that dude’s been uncharacteristically disinterested in pretty much everything for the last couple months so its kind of really overwhelming. He closes his eye and breathes out through his nose, but when he opens it Billy isn’t any less boner inducing so it really doesn’t help that much.

“Right,” He says. “Yeah, c’mon.” There’s heat spreading up his neck to his face as he turns around and leads him inside.

It feels surreal, walking up the stairs in this new house with Billy at his back. How many times did they do this in the old place? More than he can count, way more, and he almost forgets where he is for a second. He’s half expecting to see his old room, packed full of them, memories and stickers and posters accumulated over the majority of his lifetime, but then he opens the door and reality superimposes itself back over his memory.

“Haven’t uh- really decorated or anything.” Stu’s not sure why he’s saying that. Billy probably doesn’t care but he's still looking back, feeling more nervous than he probably should as he steps aside to let him through. Billy isn’t smirking anymore though.

“I miss your posters.” Billy is standing in the middle of the room, backpack slung over one shoulder, facing away. His head is turned toward the x-ray tapped up on the wall.

There’s something about his voice, just for a second it’s… unsteady. Un-Billy. And Just like that the nerves go away because Billy might need him, and that's what he's for so he’s crossing the room before he even thinks about it.

He's just put the backpack down when Stu reaches him, finally, finally closing the distance between their bodies and wrapping his arms around him from behind. God, after so long it feels even better to touch him than it did before. He feels like this is where he’s supposed to be, like his body is shaped specifically to hold him. And fuck, Billy leans back into him just like he did in the kitchen. Only this time there’s no Sid here to take him away, It’s just the two of them and he doesn’t have to perform.

“I missed you so fuckin’ much, dude.” There’s a tremor in his voice like he might start crying. That’s a real possibility, it takes a lot less to make him cry these days.

Billy’s shoulders hunch up a little but he doesn’t pull away, he just takes a deep breath and then he’s turning around in Stu’s arms. He doesn’t hug back exactly, instead his hands end up between them, pressed against Stu’s chest. He isn’t making eye contact, he’s just sort of staring down at his chest, eyebrows drawing in for a second before he does one of those blinks and pushes away. He doesn’t push hard but he’s sort of frowning as he steps back, the fingers of his right hand flicking a few times before he clears his throat and bends to pick up the backpack. He unzips it and holds it out, looking away again.

“Here.” Billy almost sounds angry but there’s a flush crawling up the back of his neck.

So yeah, Stu’s fucking confused but he takes it and reaches inside. It feels like there’s a few things in there, but the first one that he pulls out is a VHS tape. He recognizes it the moment the light hits it.

Halloween.

Not just any copy though, this is the one he stole from the video store when they were thirteen. He had an allowance, he could have bought it but Billy’s eyes always lit up when he did shit like that so when he pointed it out and said he wanted his own copy Stu just took the one on the shelf and shoved it in his jacket. This is Billy’s copy of Halloween. Still in the Blockbuster case with a crudely drawn doodle of Micheal Myers in the sheet ghost costume taped over it. Stu is responsible for that (obviously).

“You’re… giving it back?” He asks, trying hard not to sound fucking terrified as he glances up to look at him, only he’s still looking away.

“Just figured…” Billy shrugs, looks... embarrassed? “You’d need to re-start the collection.” Oh. Oh. Suddenly, the confusion is gone and he feels like he’s spontaneously been filled with the softest unspun cotton. Billy isn’t just giving it back. It’s a gift.

“Dude, I-” There’s no way to hide how mushy he’s just become, and Billy can hear it too because he turns finally, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t.” He says, moving to sit on the bed. “Don’t make a big deal. Fuckin- just…” He’s tense, of course he is. He’s Billy Loomis, he doesn’t give gifts. But now he’s giving Stu his very favorite movie, the copy that Stu gave him so many years ago. It’s still in perfect condition too. The taped-on drawing isn’t wrinkled even a little. “Would you stop staring at me? There’s another thing in there, just pull it out.”

“You want me to pull it out?” He bounces his eyebrows as he says it, and Billy’s glaring immediately. There we go, got you back in your comfort zone.

“Dickhead.” Billy shakes his head as Stu reaches back into the back pack.

The next thing he pulls out is a box, and he’s got no idea what it is until he turns it over and sees the logo. It’s a fucking Polaroid.

Billy bought him a new Polaroid camera.

“Holy shit-” He whispers, his voice just sort of isn’t there when he tries to use it.

“Told you It’s not a big deal.” Billy sounds defensive, kicking out at his shin. He lets the kick land, he barely feels it but there are tears welling up in his eyes anyways. “Since the other one got melted or whatever-” Stu’s clutching the box, trying to blink the tears away but they start falling just the same. “What the hell is wrong with you? Stop it, don’t do that, don’t fucking cry at me-”

And that’s just the most Billy thing he could have said so now he’s laughing too, and he’s definitely still crying, feeling like those butterflies in his stomach have fully hatched and they’re thrashing around.

“M’ not crying, m’ jus' leaking-” He’s blubbering, giggling, and Billy is blurry through the tears but he can still see him shaking his head.

“Leaking.” Billy repeats. “Gross, Macher.” He snorts.

Stu’s hands shake as he moves to put the camera down on his nightstand, then he can’t hold back anymore and he’s just sort of throwing himself. Billy lets out a grunt as they collide, falling back onto the mattress as Stu kisses him before he can get mad about it. Billy sort of grumbles into his mouth second but then he's grabbing fistfuls of Stu’s t-shirt, pulling tight and parting his lips to let him in. Stu takes the invite.

It’s fucking everything to be kissing him again.

It’s not like they kissed all that much before, most of the time he just got the sense that if he had tried Billy would have kicked him in the nuts. But now? Billy’s teeth are dragging over his lower lip and Stu is nearly moaning, just trying to make up for lost time. Because fuck, Billy’s never been this receptive to this before, at least not when he isn’t about to cum. He’s never given him gifts before either, and Stu doesn’t know what the fuck is going on exactly but he’s enjoying it.

When Billy pulls back he feels dizzy from it, breathing hard so their ribs press against each other with every inhale.

“What does it feel like?” Billy asks. His eyes are on Stu's face again only this time that doesn’t scare him at all.

“Makin' out with you? Fuckin’ rad, dude.”

“No, asshole-” Billy thumps his back, but then he draws that hand in between them to press his fingers to the top of Stu’s cheekbone, just under his empty eye socket, tracing over the scars there again. “This.” The mended tissue is still so fresh, so raw that even the lightest touch can feel sharp and there’s nothing he wants more than for Billy to keep touching him

“Aches a little.” How do you describe the sensation of hollowness? All he can feel is the absence of it. “It’s no big. Told you i’d give up an eye to fuck you, right? You know I’d do anything for a nut, baby.” It's a joke, but for real though. As much as it sucks to lose an eye it’s also really fucking romantic. More than worth it.

“You’re certifiable.” Billy’s expression is something he can't unidentify, something strangely heated and soft. He isn’t laughing at all anymore. He looks serious. “They should lock you up.” Those fingers keep moving, running all the way down the scar on his cheek to the one splitting his lip.

“Can you keep a secret?” Stu asks, and Billy’s eyebrows pull down with confusion as he leans in close. “I’m a serial killer.” He whispers, breath ruffling the brown hair that hangs around his ear. Billy’s chest jumps against his as he lets out a little burst of surprised laughter.

“Shit,” He’s still sort of chuckling, hands on Stu’s hips and thumbs brushing over the scarred skin just beneath the hemline of his t-shirt. “You gonna kill me Mister Ghostface?”

God. Stu was just trying to make him laugh, lighten the mood a little but that response has him full on shuddering. They’ve played victim and killer before but it was always Billy in the costume hunting him down when they did it for foreplay, and the thought of trading roles has his dick swelling even more than it already had.

- Billy’s face twisting, the bowie ripping through his shirt, disappearing inside him, blood blooming up through his white t-shirt so much darker than the corn syrup on his face and chest-

“Hey dummy-” Billy is tapping on his forehead, eyebrows raised and smirking when he comes back to himself. “Did you short circuit? What’s your malfunction?”

“Hh- ha,” Stu blinks, swallows, doesn’t even realize his hands are pushing up under Billy’s shirt to find the first and only scar he’s ever given him. It seems like Billy’s about to say something else but his voice cuts, mouth falling open as Stu's fingers find that smoother ridge of skin where he pushed into him. For about the millionth time he wonders if the shit he heard him say in the hospital was real. Right now it feels like it was.

“You- you fucking pervert.” Billy’s voice is uncharacteristically unsteady as he closes his eyes like he can’t stand to keep up the eye contact. He’s definitely pink again and Stu honestly just wants to tear him apart.

“I was hard-” He blurts, voice rougher than he’d expected. He sort of feels like he’s confessing all of a sudden. Billy’s eyebrows jump, clearly amused.

“You’re hard now.” His legs are locking around Stu’s waist, pulling him in as he rocks his hips up like he’s trying to prove it, and fuck, you're hard too. It does nothing to help Stu’s last remaining brain cells.

“N-no,” He stutters. Now he can feel his own face getting red, but suddenly it seems deeply important for Billy to know what it felt like that night. “In the kitchen. When I stabbed you.” Billy’s breath seems to catch a little and he blinks, digging his teeth into his lower lip. God, this dude has pretty eyes. “Also when you stabbed me,” He needs that part to be clear too. “Uh- the first time at least. Turns out it’s tough to stay up when you’re bleeding out.” That part is a joke, he’s half laughing when he says it but whatever bright thing was just on Billy’s face it’s been snuffed out.

Those dark eyebrows pull in and he doesn’t reply, eyes flicking down and Stu can barely breathe so he definitely can’t think of something to say to fix whatever just went wrong. He’s about to throw a hail-mary and start saying the stupidest shit he can come up with when Billy’s hands start to move.

Up from the oldest scars on his hip, over his hip bone to the two larger scars on his right side. Billy’s expression hasn't changed but his palm presses flat and hot against them. The sensation of any touch there is odd, all of the deeper scars are a jarring patchwork of intense hypersensitivity and total numbness, held tight, tense and aching by the muscle knitting back together underneath. Under his touch those knots melt away though, releasing his chest so suddenly it’s easier to breathe. His rib cage expands and Billy’s fingers splay out with the motion of it, then he blinks and suddenly his eyes are meeting Stu’s again. He starts to push Stu’s shirt up over his stomach, and it’s not hard to take the hint so he sits back a little and peels it off. Billy’s hands never leave his skin, only traveling farther up, over his chest to the faded B on his heart, down his arm to the thick ropey tissue where he’d sliced into his bicep. That one was tough to heal, he could barely lift the arm for the better part of a month and he’s still trying to build the muscle back.

He’s skinnier than he was the last time Billy saw him shirtless. He actually got himself kinda buff over the summer so he’d be ready for the killings, but he lost all those gains laying around in a hospital bed. He feels himself tense again for a second as that gaze travels his body. The feeling doesn’t last though, because Billy still doesn’t look quite right but he definitely doesn’t look disappointed either. He looks like he’s trying to commit the sight to memory.

He sits up a little, pushing on Stu’s chest so he'll lay back to let him climb on top, and there’s almost nothing in the world that feels as natural as this. He’s expecting a sharp grin or a double-sided taunt but Billy doesn’t speak, doesn’t even open his mouth. He’s just sitting there for a second, still and strangely serious, staring and breathing until Stu can’t take the tension anymore and he has to say something.

“I missed you so bad, man-” It sounds whiny coming out of him but he doesn’t have time to regret it because Billy’s kissing him again.

It’s more forceful than before, urgent, and Stu doesn’t know what changed but he’s not going to do anything that might push him away. Those hands are moving fast, rushing up over his chest, one going to his throat as the other threads into his hair, and Stu’s thinking God, yeah, finally, I missed you so fucking much.

He starts to squeeze and it’s exactly what Stu needs, what he’s needed this whole time. Because when Billy chokes him the world falls away, and his body doesn’t exist and all he knows is the boy he owes his life to. It’s only him and Billy, and there’s nothing in the world that can hurt him anymore. Billy keeps kissing him through it, doesn’t pull back until Stu’s so far gone that he can’t even kiss back, and even then he can feel him where their foreheads press together, where his breath brushes hot over his lips.

“You look so fucked up,” Somehow he sounds reverent. “- So fucked up, so fucking pretty-” Fuck, it’s not the first compliment Billy’s ever given him but he didn’t look like Jason under the mask before. More than that he isn’t snarling, he’s not growling, he’s whispering, like it’s not for Stu even though he’s too close not to hear it, and he feels himself beaming as he blacks out.

“Gah-” When Billy brings him back the first thing he hears is himself, gasping a breath, his fingers buzzing and dick twitching as his blood flow normalizes. He’s reaching out before he can even see straight, finding those thighs, those hips, that ass, and Billy’s mouth is on his jaw, moving down his aching throat and over his collarbone so his hips buck. Then he licks over his own initial where it warps Stu’s flesh.

“Fff- fuck, ha-” Stu’s stuttering, losing his words to a helpless whine as he sinks his teeth in, because when Billy bites he always means it. He picks places he can dig into and sucks hard to draw the blood up, leaving behind bright purple bruises and the kind of dental impressions that could be used to convict him. “Fuck-” Stu’s growling again, his sister is two floors down but she’s a lot more attentive than his parents so he’s trying to keep it down, only that’s pretty hard to do because Billy’s hands keep moving. Stroking down his stomach, over the waistband of his sweats, trailing too-light over his now desperately hard dick so his stomach tenses reflexively and his fingers dig into Billy’s sides like he’s trying to make contact with the bone. “Billy,” He breathes, and bottomless eyes flick up to meet his own as Billy finally grips him through layers of fleece and cotton.

“Mutt,” Billy’s speaking low, starting to tug his sweats down. He lifts his hips to help, groaning as the waistband drags over the head of his dick and shuddering with the sensation. Fuck, it’s been a while. He hasn’t been jacking off that much lately, and when he does it’s sort of just something he needs to get done so he’s already dripping when Billy finally touches him skin to skin. “I was watching, y’know that?”

“Y-you,” Stu feels like he might be about to black out. Billy’s thumb is pressing into the vein running along the base of his dick, stroking up, grip going tighter. “What?” He really doesn’t even know what he just said.

“I was watching, from the window upstairs,” he’s shifting back to lay down between Stu’s legs, just straight up staring at his dick in a way that makes him want to squirm. “I saw you kill the cameraman.” Oh. “ Saw you lift his body up onto that van-” Billy’s fingers reach the head of his dick, tracing over it feather-light before moving back down, and now Stu really is squirming. “Fuck, Stu,” He’s leaning in and as much as Stu would love to cum on his face he’s really hoping he’s not about to do that right this second. “I wanted to jump you,” Billy says, and then his tongue is pressed against Stu’s length and he’s licking along it slow, grip still tight around the base.

He reaches the head and just almost sucks it into his mouth, taking it between his lips as he runs his tongue around it. His gaze flicks up to Stu’s face as he does it, looks so fucking cocky sucking cock and Stu has to close his eye, groaning as he twitches again in Billy’s grip.

“Awww,” There’s laughter under his voice and Stu hears him spit, feels the wetness of it as he spreads it with another slow stroke. “Are you out of practice, buddy? And here I was thinking I’d trained you out of that habit.” Oh god damn it.

“F-fuck you, Billy, god,” He sputters, barely managing to sound pissed off at all.

“Not yet, Mutt.” Billy is just straight up laughing at him now. “Don’t think you’d last long enough to put it in.” Little shit-

“S’that why you wanna blow me so bad?" He's fucking crazy, has to be to taunt him like this but he can't stop. "I just thought you were craving some Christmas cock meat. Like last year, remember? Really cute you’re making it a tradition-”

“Oh fuck you-” Billy snarls, drives a knuckle hard into Stu’s thigh, and he must have hit some reflex nerve because suddenly his knee is jerking up out of his control and smacking Billy square in the face. “Fuck!” Billy’s shouting, letting go and recoiling, rolling over onto his back to clutch his nose.

“Oh shit-” Stu’s up on his knees and scrambling over as immediately as he can with his dick still out and his pants around his knees. “Dude, i’m so fuckin sorry-” He’s saying, but he might sort of be giggling a little. He’s really trying not to. “Lemme see?” Behind his hands Billy’s face is red, eyebrows pulled all the way down and glaring. “C’mon man, please? It was an accident, just lemme see it-” Billy’s eyes narrow before he squeezes them shut, and then his hands shift a little, moving his fingers to prod carefully along the bridge of his nose. He winces and Stu’s hands fly forward. “Shit-”

“Asshole!” Billy barks, slapping him away and revealing his face in the process. “You almost broke my nose-" And god, Stu’s really trying to look apologetic, but there’s blood, bright and red running from Billy’s nose. It drips down onto his lips, rolls over his chin and Stu can’t even blink. Fuck. Stu wants to see him covered in blood like he’s in an Evil Dead movie. Like he was that night. He keeps seeing it against his eyelids; bright lights, hot, red blood everywhere, his vision blurring, his balance turning-

“You almost killed me.” It just comes out of him, no plan. It’s not an accusation, he isn’t mad, maybe he’s joking or maybe he’s just acknowledging it, he really isn’t sure.

Billy looks just as shocked about that as he feels. His mouth falls open and it stays that way, blood painting his teeth and dripping onto his tongue as the silence stretches between them. He blinks, looks away, closes his mouth, swallows.

“I didn’t mean to.” Billy sounds so young, so unlike himself when he says this and it pierces into him, drags him forward.

“S’ok, doesn't matter.” He presses two fingers against the B on his chest, now aching from the bruise bitten into it. “Already told you, remember? You wanna kill me, you kill me.” Billy doesn’t respond for a long moment, eyes still pinned to the scar under Stu’s fingers. Fuck. He makes the shape of the word with his mouth but there’s no sound to come with it, and it’s surreal, wrong, squeezing tight in Stu’s throat. Something is wrong. Something is wrong with Billy-

“You’re fucking crazy.” Billy’s tone switches in a second and something hard shutters over his expression before he shoves Stu back down on the mattress. “Stop making shit weird and let me suck your dick, you piece of shit-”

Stop making shit weird.

A burst of unsteady laughter rips out of him. You're the one giving gifts, you're the one saying 'I didn’t mean to' like you feel guilty, but I'm the one making things weird? He honestly has no idea how to respond to that, but it turns out it doesn’t matter because Billy is back between his legs already, swallowing his cock before he can even stop laughing. His hard-on had started to flag a little from the tense conversation but it forgets about that as soon as Billy starts sucking.

“Hah, jesus man!” Stu’s gripping at the sheets again, voice gone high and rough. Apparently Billy’s not interested in teasing anymore.

He’s immediately bobbing up and down to take more of him in, one fist working what his mouth doesn’t reach, and it feels like the sexual equivalent of taking a shotgun shell to the stomach. Stu’s moaning, way too loud, clapping a hand over his mouth and Billy is glaring up at him, bleeding everywhere and smearing it all over his dick like he’s fucking a wound.

His hips buck and Billy’s eyes squeeze shut as he gags but he doesn’t pull off, he just starts working his way down further, further than he’s ever taken him in before and it doesn’t look easy. He feels the pressure as Billy swallows and at this rate Stu really isn’t going to last that much longer, especially not after he forces himself down far enough for the head of Stu’s dick to push into his throat.

“Holy fuck,” Stu squeaks. God, the feeling of it is insane and it looks just as crazy, Billy’s pretty lips, bloody and stretched wide around his cock as it disappears almost completely into the heat of his mouth. And that’s it- “Shit, Billy m’gonna cum, I can’t-” Those eyes snap open, and they’re on his face as he hits his peak.

His vision blurs and his head falls back as it washes through him, so good it almost hurts, making his hips buck as he spills into that tight throat and Billy still doesn't pull off, he fucking swallows. Stu is shivering, reeling from the overstimulation as he empties the last of himself out, thinking he might be about to pass out when Billy finally releases him. He sits back, smearing blood, spit, and cum over his cheek as he wipes his mouth.

Billy Loomis just swallowed. It's impossible not to smile about that.

“Duude…” It’s all he can manage as he drifts back down to earth.

“Merry Christmas, asshole.” Billy’s snickering, seeming self-satisfied as he drops himself down to stretch out at Stu’s side.

Merry Christmas. Fuck. He got so insanely pumped that Billy got him gifts that he forgot he doesn’t have anything to give back for the first time in years.

“Shit-” He rolls onto his side to look at him. “Man, I’m so sorry I don’t have a Christmas present for you, I didn’t know you were coming home and I didn’t know your address in LA so I didn’t think I could send you anything-” He’s rambling but he really does feel super fucking guilty, and even if Billy hadn’t come home for the holidays he should have got him something for whenever he actually showed up again.

“No, shut up.” Billy cuts him off, slapping a hand over his mouth and shaking his head. “All I want for Christmas is a fucking orgasm. You remember how to do that, right?” He lets go of Stu’s mouth to flick him in the nose.

“Y-yeah,” He blinks. He's still kinda fuck-dumb from the lethal blowjob he just got so it comes out sounding extra stupid.

“Do you really?” Billy’s asking, raising his eyebrows all condescending and suddenly Stu’s thinking did you forget what I did to you last time we fucked? Stu hasn’t forgotten, thank god. “Cause you got hit pretty fuckin hard in the head-” Stu cuts him off by shoving him back, rolling over to press him into the mattress and he’s grinning already because its all just provocation.

He’s Billy though so he has to fight back even after the provocation gets him a response. And sure, Stu’s lost muscle since the last time they did this but it seems like Billy did too so things haven’t really changed all that much. He wriggles, kicks, tries to bite at him, and eventually he gets himself rolled over onto his stomach. That’s a habit of his that Stu privately finds extremely entertaining; pretty much every time they end up wrestling Billy finds a way to press his ass against his dick. Homo. The main difference right now is that Stu’s naked and Billy’s got all his clothes on, but he’s about to correct that.

“You’re a cocky little shit,” Stu’s laughing and Billy’s letting out a snarl as he tries to push up onto his hands and knees. Stu lets him, mostly because it’s a lot easier to get his pants down now that his hips aren’t pressed to the mattress. He’s not wearing a belt so it’s really just a matter of getting his fly unzipped and yanking them down, so now Billy’s pants are bunched up around his calves, effectively trapping his legs enough for Stu to sit on them as he gets a grip on his briefs to yank those down too. “God, I love your ass…” He’s literally drooling, he can’t help it. He really, really missed this ass.

“You’re such a fucking fag-” Billy’s still struggling but it’s obviously half hearted and there’s not a lot he can do on his stomach with his legs pinned.

“We’ve been over this dude, I swing in all directions. But I am, ha-“ Stu can barely get it out through the laughter. This dude just sucked his dick and swallowed, and now he’s basically serving his ass up on a silver platter but Stu’s the fag for enjoying the view? “I am about to fuck a fag,” He’s laughing until the words actually come out but then he wishes he could suck them back in. He can’t see Billy’s face but the wriggling has stopped abruptly.

Stu’s never called him that before.

Billy’s probably used it on him about a thousand times and it’s always been at least half an insult but it hasn’t really hooked him in years. Billy’s only called himself that once though, and it didn’t look easy. So sure, Stu can tie his shoes again but apparently the filter between his dumb ass brain and his big loud mouth is still broken.

“I-” Billy starts, pauses like he’s glitched out and tries again. “I’m gonna kill you?” Miraculously he doesn’t sound like he’s about to go nuclear and he obviously wasn’t expecting the comeback because his response tips up at the end like he’s asking a question. Which is actually just really cute.

“Nah, dude. I don’t think you are.” I think you love me. He doesn’t do anything to try and muffle the affection he feels in this moment, and it’s clear Billy can hear it because there’s a flush crawling up the back of his neck. Stu can see it spreading onto his cheek as he pushes himself up to his elbows to look back. His eyebrows are pulled all the way down and his mouth is set in a frown so intense it’s hard to take seriously.

“Ass-” Billy starts, clearly about to call him an asshole but Stu’s high enough on the moment to cut him off.

“Yeah baby, ass.” With that he reels back and Billy jumps when his palm connects.

“I- I’m-“ Billy’s sputtering now, fully red in the face. There’s a nice red handprint on his ass to match. “Did you just fucking spank me?”

“Yeah, I did.” He’s feeling a little delirious just looking at the mark his hand left behind. God, It’s obvious it won’t take him long to get hard enough for round two, he’s already filling up again. “Just felt natural, y’know?” He snickers, and it’s mostly meant to piss Billy off but also it’s not really a lie. “Want me to do it again?”

“Ok, I’m going to skin you alive,” Billy hisses, trying to reach around and smack him back. “I’m going to fucking dismember you, I’m-” And none of that is an actual no so he does it again. Hard enough this time to make his palm sting. “Ah-” Billy gasps, shivers and clearly tries to hide it by turning his face to push it back into the blankets. “I can’t believe you right now.” God you’re so cute, god I love you so much.

“If you want me to stop, say stop.” He’s trying not to sound like he’s laughing at him but he definitely is.

“Bad. Dog.” Billy’s shoulders are hunched, face still hidden as he says this, and for him? This is basically begging so Stu brings his hand down again, as hard as he can. This time Billy straight up moans.

“Fuck…” Stu groans along with him, letting his fingers drift lower, over his balls to wrap around the base of his dick. He feels like he might be about to lose his mind when it twitches in his grip. “You’re so hard dude, holy shit,”

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Billy’s panting, gripping fistfuls of the blanket. Billy Loomis swallowed and now he’s fucking rock solid cause I smacked his ass. Stu’s giggling, it’s impossible to choke it down.

“I’m about to be fucking your assho-” He can barely get it out before Billy’s growling, lifting up to swat at him again.

“You already told that joke, shithead!” His eyebrows are pulled down still only there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and there’s laughter in his voice. “You’re so-” Stu gives him a firm stroke, dragging his foreskin down over the head of his dick and back up as he brings his free hand down on that ass again to watch his mouth fall open. “Oh, shit…”

Yeah, Stu’s feeling pretty Oh shit right now too. With the way Billy's dick is somehow filling even more in his grip, the way his ass is red and hot from the print of his palm? Stu’s fingers are digging into that flesh, letting go of him only long enough to pull his hips up for better access, then taking him back in hand and leaning forward to lick along the back of his thigh. He runs his tongue up to the soft skin between his legs, feels him twitch and hears him inhale when he finally licks over his asshole.

“Why the fuck are you so good at that…” Billy’s mumbling, squirming as he runs his tongue in a little circle, adding pressure to push in just a bit.

He’s not going to bother answering, he just hums his contentment into warm skin as Billy presses his hips back for more. This is exactly the third time he’s eaten ass, and its either a lot easier than eating pussy or Billy’s just really into it because nothing else makes him so helpless this fast. It’s really fucking addictive.

Billy lets out a ragged moan that he doesn’t quite manage to stifle and Stu decides to escalate, starts to jerk him off as he fucks his ass with his tongue. It's easy to get lost in the way Billy rocks back against him, in the heat of his skin and the way he pulses against his palm, dripping at the tip. When he opens his eye, pulling back for a breath he loses himself even further because Billy’s back is arched like he’s a fucking porn star. He’s hiding his face again, arms wrapped around his head but Stu can still hear him.

“Mmff- more,” The sound of his voice is like a drug and Stu’s definitely hard enough to fuck now. He’s gonna need to open Billy up a lot more for that though. Gladly.

“God, yeah,” He’s diving in, hooking his free arm under Billy’s hips to hold him close as he works his tongue inside again.

And at this point Billy’s so worked up he's twitching, shuddering as Stu works his hand along the length of it. He’s starting to relax in the back too but Stu’s gonna need to get some fingers in there before they’ll be able to fuck, and he could probably move on to that at this point but he really just wants to keep eating Billy’s ass so he decides to indulge himself a bit longer. Doesn’t sound like Billy’s mad about it. Actually what he sounds like is a fucking whore-

“Yeah, god, just like that,” He’s grinding back against Stu’s tongue, fucking himself on it now and there’s kind of nothing better than getting used like this. He wouldn’t even need to cum again to be happy, but honestly he could probably get himself off just grinding against the bed so he can keep eating him out. “Mmm, good boy, fuck-” Billy’s obviously lost in it too, gone enough to be moaning like that without trying to hide it at all, and that’s the best. That’s Stu’s favorite thing. “Hah, Mutt, god,”

If he had a tail he'd be wagging it.

It’s not like his tongue isn’t getting tired but he’s made for use so he speeds up, works harder, and Billy gets louder. He should probably be worried about the volume but the part of him that thinks about shit like that has been completely buried under this, so all he’s thinking is I love you I love you, you feel so good, you sound so good, you’re perfect-

Suddenly Billy’s jerking away, breaking the hold Stu’s got on his hips.

“Ok, christ,” He shudders as he says it, and Stu finds himself grinning. “Enough, would you just fuck me already?”

He's still on his hands and knees, facing away but it’s clear enough as he turns around. He's flushed and glaring, pupils like black holes- you were about to cum, weren’t you, baby? He’s distracted enough by the look on Billy's face that it takes him a second to register the command, and his dick is very super into that idea, but it’s been months since he’s been inside him and there’s no way he got him prepped enough.

“Dude, I’m not gonna fit without stretching you out a little more, lemme just find some lube ok?” Billy’s already rolling his eyes though, tugging his jeans the rest of the way off. “I’m not goin’ in dry-" Stu's eye's fall to his thighs as he reveals them, lightly furred with brown hair and... bruised? There are purple bruises, little splotches of them all over the tops of his legs. He doesn't have time to wonder what happened though, Billy doesn't give him a chance.

“I can take it," He’s half naked with his socks still on, and for some reason he sounds really determined. "-not a bitch.” He's already crawling forward and grabbing Stu by the dick like he owns it. Which he does, to be fair.

“Never called you a bitch, dude-” He’s stalling a little, really trying to get a hold of himself because yeah, he wants to be inside him as fast as possible but Billy's too fucking impatient for his own good when it comes to taking dick. He gets it, he's let Billy fuck him with way less prep than he should, but Billy doesn't always react to pain the way he does. It's hard not to picture his face the way it looked just after he stabbed him. Right before everything started going to shit. "You're still tight as shit though-" Billy's glaring, straddling him, clearly about to try and take him anyways when Stu hooks an arm around his waist, pulling him in against his chest so he can't sit back.

"The hell do you think you're doing??" He's snarling, trying to push himself back as Stu digs blindly into his nightstand for lube.

"Why're you always in a rush?" He finds a packet and rips it open with his teeth just before Billy decides to rake his nails down his back. "H-hah,Fuck-" He nearly squeezes all the lube out as his grip tightens in his shock, but he manages to catch most of it on his fingers, squirting the rest out between Billy's asscheeks.

"Ah!" Billy lurches, and yeah the lube is probably kinda cold. "Fuck you, fuck you-"

"Sorry, baby-" He's maybe laughing as he tosses the packet aside, reaching back around him to press a finger against that hole, rubbing over it. "I'll be quick, promise-" He says, and then he starts to push that finger inside. "God-" Billy yields to him more quickly than he did the first time, squeezing around his finger, pulling him in further. When Stu curls that finger he moans, pushing his hips back to take him in to the last knuckle. So obviously Stu's moaning too now.

Billy's not trying to pull away anymore so he lets go of him, freed hand roaming down to get a handful of ass as he works his finger in and out of that heat. He's panting in Stu's ear, mouthing at his neck as he starts to press a second finger in and again Billy's pushing his hips back for it.

"H-hurry up," He's growling, nipping at Stu's shoulder, rocking back and opening up when he spreads his fingers. And fuck that's hot, so yeah maybe he's rushing when he pushes a third finger in but Billy takes that too. Stu's so hard it hurts and he's really starting to lose it when Billy gets fed up again. "Ok I'm fucking stretched, would you just fuck me already-"

"Yeah, god, yeah, ok-" He's basically stammering at this point, any crumb of self control has long burnt away so he's pulling his fingers out, pumping his cock to slick it, and his throat goes tight with some unknowable well of emotion because fuck, Billy's back, we're back-

“Mutt,” Billy's voice is low and his hands are warm when they come to rest on Stu’s shoulders.

“Billy,” He’s trying to be silly and mimic his tone but he doesn’t really pull it off because Billy's already sitting back, bracing a hand on his chest as he guides him into place.

And god as always he’s so. Fucking. Tight. His vision spins as the head of his dick pops inside, and both of them groan as Billy rock his hips a bit to work him in. He’s got his eyes closed and he’s biting his lip the way he does when he’s really concentrating, so Stu’s hands find their way to his hips, pushing up under his t-shirt and trying to keep himself chill as he sinks down a little further.

“Mmmff, ah, Billy,” He never wants to stop saying his name. He'd said it so many times on the phone, knowing it would go to a voicemail box that Billy never emptied, knowing he probably wouldn’t hear it. He said it thousands of times under his breath, alone in his room and aching like an open wound even after his stitches got taken out. “Billy,” When he hears his name again he opens his eyes, gaze falling to his face as he takes the rest of him in and seats himself in Stu's lap.

“Idiot.” Billy is saying, sounding breathless and fond, and just like that Stu is home. His house burnt down but Billy is home. “Always leaking something.” Because yeah, fine. Stu is crying again. “Spit, cum, blood, tears…” Billy reaches forward, swipes a finger through the wetness on his cheek, and then he sucks it into his mouth like corn syrup. He’s not even moving yet but Stu feels himself pulse, feels Billy’s warmth, his slick insides, and it rises up inside him, dewing his skin like a fever.

“God, I love you so much…” He’s been trying to hold back but it just falls out of him now and he can't really care about it.

Usually Billy rolls his eyes or ignores that kind of shit but this time he tenses up, his grin falling away as the muscles of his face go stiff and again, what the fuck? Whatever’s happening it can’t just be in his head, something is off, and… Billy shakes his head, lets out a breath. When he looks up the expression is gone again but he’s hiding something, he obviously is, only Stu can’t stay worried about that because Billy's hands are on his chest and suddenly he’s in motion. He’s lifting his hips up slow, gripping so tight that Stu loses his breath and he’s just holding on for dear life, both hands on his ass as he sinks back down.

“Ah- good boy,” Billy’s voice is low and smooth like velvet as their hips meet, and Stu feels goosebumps running up his limbs. He can’t even respond so instead he just whimpers, and Billy’s smile broadens. “Aww, mutt, so whiny… what, do you want something?”

“I want-” Stu starts, but then Billy’s rocking his hips, grinding his dick against the base of his stomach. “Fuck,” He swears and Billy snickers, fingers running down to his stomach, pressing down against the scars there.

“C’mon boy, you can do it,” Smug asshole. “I believe in you.” And he sounds so god damn sarcastic that Stu actually manages to get a hold of the reins. “What d'you want?”

“I wanna fuck you to death,” It comes out of him in a rush and Billy takes a sharp breath in, fingers digging into his side as he pushes his hips up, bottoming out. And shit, if he still had two eyes they’d probably be crossed right now.

“F-fuck, Stu..” Billy’s stomach tenses reflexively and when his gaze focuses again he looks like a lit fuse. “You should-“ Yeah I should- So he does. “Oh! Fuck, yeah-“ Billy’s so goddamn loud and if he keeps that up Leslie’s definitely going to think someone’s dying so he rolls them over and slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Mmf!” He looks livid, of course he does, but Stu only needs to hit it a little harder to have his eyes rolling back.

“God, yeah-” It’s not like Stu’s immune to it either, he feels like an animal, feels like his hips are moving on their own, can’t fucking stop himself as the force of it drives Billy further up the mattress.

“Mmm-” Billy’s moaning into his palm, hands moving fast to grab at his ass like he’s trying to pull him in harder, and Stu’s going to fucking give it to him.

He’s not even thinking when he takes his hand off Billy’s mouth to brace it against the headboard, he’s just a body meant to make him sound like this, to make his back arch and his toes curl. Also it feels fucking crazy. It sounds crazy too, looks crazy to see his cock pushing into Billy's tight fucking ass, to feel it pulling him in, holding him tight as his own cock bounces against his stomach .

“Fuck,” Billy’s got his eyes squeezed shut, his eyebrows pulled up in the middle like he’s in pain. “Yeah, Mutt, good, c’mon-“ Those words are nitrous to him and when Billy’s hand moves down between them so he can touch himself Stu doesn’t hesitate to grab his wrist and pin it to the mattress. “Hey-” He snaps, he’s fighting the grip until Stu’s hand replaces his own, and his mouth falls open soundlessly, any ounce of resistance gone just like that. “Ooooh, god…”

“Shhh, baby you’re so loud,” Stu’s laughing, already breathless from the exertion.

His legs are burning from it too but there’s no way he’s taking a break so he decides to change positions instead, pulling out and moving both hands to Billy’s waist so he can shift him.

“The hell? Put your stupid dick back-” Of course Billy’s already hissing but then Stu flips him over onto his stomach and the protest cuts off with a yelp.

“Chill, man. I’ll keep fucking you to death in a sec-” He’s snickering, moving into position and pushing in just as he gets up on his hands and knees. “God damn, that’s good,” It really is, Billy feels different from this angle and from the sound ripping out of him he feels it too. “You feel insane-” He literally can’t look away from the place where his body grips him, stretched and inviting him back in as he pulls out slow.

He’s biting his lip, taking his time savouring the view but Billy’s impatiently rocking back, and letting out a little groan as he starts to fuck himself. Just like that Stu’s off leash, slamming back into him so hard his arms buckle and he ends up face down in the pillows.

“Ah!” Billy’s crying out again, and at least he’s sort of muffled this time but Stu’s not thinking about that anymore.

Shit, he’s just glad he already came once tonight because this would have finished him and he wants to keep fucking Billy forever. Until neither of them can move anymore, and then he wants to do it again, over and over and over. He’s got one hand moving, groping over his hip and pushing between his legs to find his dick again, and fuck, when he starts to jack him off he gets so much tighter.

“Mutt, good boy, just like that, so fucking good-“ The praise is rolling out of him and Stu’s drinking it all down, swimming in it, fucking drowning in it.

It’s so much, it’s everything and Stu just needs him closer now so he’s scooping an arm around his waist, lifting him up. He’s pulling him back against his chest as he keeps fucking into him, has to move a little slower but the position gets him so much deeper and Billy keens with the change of angles. It’s perfect, it’s heaven the way he clenches around him, the way he shivers and exhales when Stu strokes his dick as he bottoms out, the smell of his sweat and the taste of his skin.

“God I love you-” His voice is hoarse, cracking as he buries his face in Billy’s shoulder, as he sinks into him again and picks up the pace. “I love you, I love you-” He’s saying, and Billy’s moaning, sounding broken as his fingers wrap tight around Stu’s hand. And then he pulls it up to his own throat.

It’s probably the last thing he’s expecting but there’s been a lot of plot twists tonight so this one doesn’t quite trip him up. It’s just another trust fall and there’s nothing in the world that could stop him from catching Billy.

His fingers squeeze and his palm presses down, feeling the jump of Billy’s trachea as he swallows, leaning in to hear the last of his breath just before it cuts out. And now Stu’s own throat is aching, tensed with the threat of more tears as he rocks up into Billy’s body, because holy fuck, he trusts me, he missed me, he- Billy goes limp in his arms and he lets go, thrusting up into him hard as he gasps his first breath.

“Fuck,” Billy’s rasping, reaching back to grab a fistful of his hair and it stings so fucking good. “I-I’m, fuck-” He’s getting close, it’s obvious from the way his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, the way his eyebrows pull up; its one of Stu's favourite sights in the whole wide world and it never fails to make him weak.

“C’mon baby, please-” He's straight up begging. “Cum for me," He reaches down again to grab Billy's dick and he shudders in response. "c’mon, I need it, please-”

And just like that Billy shoot's into his hand and over sheets. That perfect hole squeezes down with a rhythm and his mouth falls open in wordless cry as he rides through it. Stu lets himself tip back, staying buried and clutching him to his chest as he hits the mattress. For a warm, blissful second it’s just that, their heaving breath, sweat slick skin sliding again sweat slick skin. Billy’s still all hot and twitchy inside, and he’s honestly really fucking close so he’s about to pull out and jerk himself to a finish when Billy speaks.

“...Keep going,” His voice is low, barely audible, but Stu hears him perfectly well and it pulls him under again.

He really does want to keep fucking him.

He’s still holding Billy to his chest, still inside him so he just rolls them both over and plants his knees on either side of his legs, pressing him prone and face down into the blankets as he pulls out and slams back in. Billy grunts as their bodies smack together and Stu bottoms out, and fuck, it’s like cuming made him tighten up.

He can feel the slick of lube on the backs of Billy’s thighs as he ruts into him, and that’s really what it is now. Stu’s a mindless thing again, every ounce of sense he’s got left poured into the effort of holding him down and pounding him like he’s a toy, and Billy? He’s pushing back into him, moaning into the blankets like it’s being punched out of him. He can only hear himself growling, can only feel Billy’s body, his insides and the mounting rush of sensation making his breath shallow, making his head spin and his fingers buzz with static, and then Billy lets out this helpless little sound that could only be described as a whine and it’s over.

He moans something but he’s not sure what because his brain just completely turns off as it hits him. It feels a million times better than the shit they gave him in the hospital, bursting inside him warm and fuzzy as his hips buck uncontrollably and his dick jerks. And Billy’s squeezing down again, hard, crying out under him, fuck it’s almost too much as he empties himself. He's shivering from the overstimulation and gripping Billy’s hips as he comes down.

“F-fuck…” His voice shakes and when he opens his eye his vision is blurred.

“Mmm….” Billy hums, barely moves as Stu pushes himself up on unsteady arms.

He pulls out and wipes his dick on his discarded shirt, and fuuucckk, as usual the sight of his cum dripping out of Billy's ass makes him dizzy. He’s only half alive in the best way possible right now and he needs to squeeze the love of his life because it’s been way too fucking long. He flops down next to the apparently boneless dude he just railed and wraps arms around him to pull him in. Billy lets him, settles back against him even. Stu thinks he might just burst, and he's not even a little bit ready for what happens next.

“Fuck… I love you-” Stu's eyes snap open. Stu didn't say that. Billy said that. Billy just fucking said that, half slurred like he’s about to fall asleep, but the hazy warmth of it only lasts a second because he goes rigid immediately after he says it and so does Stu.

Because-

Holy fuck was that real?

Holy fuck-

It was one thing to hear it back when he was still swimming around inside his own brain but right now he’s fully present, he’s awake and conscious and Billy just fucking said that, for real, out loud-

He’s still not moving either, Stu doesn’t think he’s taken a breath and as he forces himself to inhale he realizes Billy hasn’t either. And ok, holy shit, get your shit together, he’s thinking, Billy’s about to freak out so you can’t, and that’s what it takes for his brain to come back online enough to come up with a proper response. He could just say it back, that’s what he wants to do. God he really just wants to say it back, but that’s a bad idea because what Billy really needs is an out. Stu can give him that.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t say it cocky or knowing, he says it like he really didn’t hear him and Billy’s body almost relaxes again. “Wh-” He yawns, that’s real. What? The fucking took a lot out of him, it’s not like he’s been working out much lately and it kinda helps him sell the lie. “What’d you say?” He asks, and Billy finally lets out a breath.

“N-nothing.” Billy’s buried his face in the pillow again but the shame is fully audible. Fuck, Billy- “M’just… tired.” It’s obvious from his tone that that’s not the whole story but it’s not something to press right now.

“Shit, man, me too, m’gonna have to work on my stamina now you’re back in town.” Stu’s putting on his dumb fuck tone of voice, hoping for a laugh but Billy’s shoulders just hike up again.

“Put something on?” He’s still speaking into the pillow, still so obviously not ok that the urge to ask is almost overwhelming. Instead he buries the fear in his stomach, seals it up in the ball of ice that’s been growing there little by little every time Billy falters.

“Yeah man, bet,” Stu doesn’t sell it quite so well this time and the strain bleeds into his words as he gets up, reaching for Billy’s stolen copy of Halloween.

“No-” Suddenly Billy’s sitting up all the way, eyes on the tape in his hands like it’s personally done him wrong, only then it seems like he doesn’t really have a follow up because his mouth just hangs open for a second. “Not that.” He swallows hard, not meeting Stu’s gaze as he flops back down. “S-something else.” He punctuates it with a sigh that sounds really fucking forced and Stu’s literally biting the questions back as he pushes himself up to go look through his collection.

“Yeah, I guess we’ve kinda watched that one to death, huh?" If he’s being honest this movie will never get old for him, it means way too much after everything that’s happened. But maybe it’s getting old for Billy.

He picks My Bloody Valentine, and Billy doesn’t say anything about it. He just mumbles something about going to clean himself up, and Stu ends up lying pretty much motionless, trying not to freak out until he comes back. He’s still all frozen up when he climbs into bed, but he doesn’t pull away when Stu curls around him, so that’s enough. Billy’s been nervous and quiet before but he hasn’t left yet and that’s what matters.

That’s what he tells himself, pressing a palm over the scar on Billy’s stomach as Sylvia walks around looking for her boyfriend, soon to be impaled on a water pipe like a torn water balloon. He’s still telling himself that when the credits roll and Billy’s eyes are closed but Stu’s not sure if he’s actually asleep. And fuck, he needs to sleep too but there’s no way he’s going to be able to pass out like this so he crawls out of bed as quietly as he can, unearthing one of his badly rolled joints and crawling out his window to sit on the roof outside.

He sparks up, inhales so deep that it burns and blows it all out at the moon like he might be able to hide himself from it. He shivers, inhales again, and repeats until it’s burnt all the way down and his brain feels like it’s full of fog. Billy doesn’t move when he gets back into bed and he’s still not sure if he’s actually asleep but he can’t fucking think about that right now or he’ll end up paranoid so he just snuggles in close, presses his face against the back of his neck, and focuses on breathing until he loses consciousness.

He wakes up when Billy pulls out of his arms.

“Huh?” It’s the first thing out of his mouth, he hasn’t even opened his eye yet.

“Fuck,” He hears Billy mutter, and he blinks fast as that hot pink 6 AM sunlight leaves his vision blurred and overexposed. When his eye finally focuses there’s Billy, tugging on his jeans and glaring at the floor.

“S’goin on man? You don’t gotta sneak out, Les ain’t gonna come up here or anything.” He’s sitting up before he makes the choice, trying so hard to sound casual and failing entirely. Don’t go, don’t go away again, talk to me, tell me what’s wrong-

“We’re done, I’m leaving.” Billy’s tone is short, hollow like it’s simple even though it’s clearly not.

“H-ha,” He’s laughing but it’s not because anything is funny. Bad habit. “Way to make me feel like a cheap whore, man-” Billy cringes, but he doesn’t slow down as he tugs on his socks. “When you gonna be back?” He sounds hopeful, he sounds scared, he sounds fucking pathetic.

“Stu,” He stands up straight, fingers flicking furiously and when he finally meets Stu’s eye his stomach just drops all the way through the ground. “This is over.” Billy says. “I’m not coming back.”

Stu can barely breathe.

Chapter Text

Billy hasn’t been in LA for long but so far he doesn’t like it. Then again he might not like it anywhere right now. It’s not like he’s ever been a big fan of Woodsboro, but there’s still a part of him that felt heavy when he packed his shit to leave. He didn’t end up bringing much, just some clothes and his walkmen, a stack of CD’s and a couple movies. Only the ones he used to watch with his mom, he hasn’t seen most of them in years so they’re safer than the others. 

Guinea pig 2 stays stuffed under his mattress and he doesn’t even glance at the shoebox in his closet. 

His mom is obviously trying to cheer him up on the drive down, playing her Patsy Cline CDs and telling him about the movie theater down the road that plays the old stuff, telling him she’ll get him anything he wants for his room and she can’t wait to set it up with him. She tells him about her new job too.

“As far as I see it I’m in the business of keeping people honest.” Her eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses when she says it. “Celebrities, you know?” Her mouth twists and she shakes her head a little. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve seen, they think they can get away with anything if no one’s watching them. Well I’m watching.” Her mouth twists back in the other direction at that. He’s seen a smile like that on his own face more than once. “It’s these pop stars stuffing themselves with drugs, knowing full well that they’ve got impressionable young fans by the way! Entitled actors driving drunk, married men renting hotel rooms under fake names…” By the end of the sentence her knuckles are white on the steering wheel and for the hundredth time he wishes he could just tell her what he did for her. “Someone’s got to keep them in line, you know? All it takes to tell the truth is a few good photos.” And there’s that smile they share, back on her mouth again.

He wants to smile back, of course he does. She sounds happy, excited when she talks about her new life and he doesn’t remember her looking like that much before. He wants to just feel happy for her, and on some level he does but the pit in his stomach remains. If anything it gets deeper, like this acid inside eating away at him. It’s hard not to think about the fact that he was back in Woodsboro, living in an empty house with his dad and her ghost while she was out here reinventing herself.

When they actually get there he’s kind of impressed. She told him she had a two-bedroom and he wasn’t expecting much but it’s pretty damn nice. Kinda looks like one of those places in a magazine or a furniture catalog. All brand-new, bright and modern. There’s a bowl of fake fruit on the coffee table, which frankly makes no sense to him. It’s not decorated at all like she decorated home, It’s like her new nose and all the new clothing she wears; attached to this version of her that’s still a stranger to him. 

“So? Do you like it?” She asks. She seems proud showing him around the place. 

“Yeah,” He’s sitting at the counter in the kitchen now, and she’s chopping onions. There’s something about watching her cook that has him relaxing a little. It’s familiar.  “Nice place.” He thinks he probably means it but he doesn’t feel much of anything right now so it’s hard to tell.

“Well, it better be, it’s not cheap,” She looks up, winks at him like it’s a joke or something. “It helps that your father’s compensated me for emotional damages.” Her grip on the knife changes when she says your father, but he’s barely paying attention to that. How long has she been getting money from him? Did his fucking dad know where she was and he just didn’t say anything? He feels his jaw clench but he doesn’t say shit about it. “Not that I need it anymore.” She keeps talking, knife moving fast, up and down as she dices tomatoes. “You know I never really had a career before? Now that you’re all grown up…” I wasn’t when you left . “-well, it’s nice to have something that’s all mine.” She looks up at him, smiling as she scrapes all those tomatoes off the cutting board and into the pan. They hiss as they hit the olive oil and garlic already frying.  

Fuck, he missed her marinara though. Just the smell of it makes him feel like he’s 5 again and everything is a lot simpler. 

After dinner she pulls out a stack of tabloids and shows him all the pictures she took. There’s a lot of them, most of them in the married man at a motel category. Some of them he’d even seen before, blown up on MTV news or on a magazine rack and he has to admit she’s got a skill for it. It’s not just the cheating shit obviously, but he wouldn’t blame her if she preferred those gigs. She deserves a little retribution. So he’s proud of her, he really is. 

The pride does nothing to fill that pit in his stomach though.

Still, he’s hanging out with her as much as he can over the next few days. He’s not immune to the way she treats him, and as much as it fucking mortifies him he feels starved for her attention. She seems happy to give it, eager to do anything that might make him smile. He gets the sense that she’s doing her best to make up for the time they’ve lost. And she can’t, there’s no way, but it’s not like he’s going to say that. They haven’t talked about any of it, not directly, and everytime it comes up in the periphery one of them changes the topic. 

So yeah, it’s complicated but he doesn’t know what the fuck he’d do without her right now, because every night after she goes to bed and he’s alone, Stu hijacks his brain. It’s not like he’s even safe from it when she’s around during the day, but at least she gives him a distraction. At night when he’s alone his scars ache and Stu is everywhere inside his head. Sidney is etched in there too, little circular scars from a bullet and a fucking umbrella and the combination of them is enough to make him want to bash his head against the walls.

Of course it all gets worse when she goes back to work because the moment he’s alone it’s like the floodgates open. He’s everywhere, all over every movie Billy tries to put on because even when it isn’t something they’ve watched together that voice is popping up in his head with all these stupid comments and asinine little jokes. It’s not just the movies either, that fucking Deftones album is a soundtrack for begging and taunting and moaning in a bedroom that doesn’t exist anymore. Even his clothing is stained with it, every single t-shirt Stu’s stripped off him and tossed to the floor.

It doesn’t help that he keeps fucking calling. 

The first time Billy just shoved his phone under the mattress and tried to pretend it never happened. He’d been planning to leave it there and ignore it, but every day he breaks down at some point and pulls it out to see that he’s got another missed call. It dies on the 5th day, and he hates himself for it, but he charges it. He’s not going to pick up though. He can’t pick up, and under no circumstances can he check it.

All that is to say the move gave him distance but it didn’t give him a clean slate. If anything the slate is caked with gore and every attempt to wipe it only rubs it in deeper.

He’s not giving up though, if Stu painted all over his stuff then he’ll get new stuff. So he goes out and buys new clothes that Stu has never touched, picks a new brand of cigarettes he’s never smoked after fucking him, and heads to a record store to grab a couple albums he’s never listened to in his car. He doesn’t bother stepping into a blockbuster, he’s not delusional.

Once he’s got all his new shit he signs up for drivers-ed. He never had a reason to before but he  doesn’t have someone to drive him around anymore and he needs shit to do, needs to keep himself occupied. It’s obviously not enough though, and he’s only been in LA for a week before he asks his mom about starting school again. 

She seems a bit surprised, asks him if he’s sure and reassures him that it’s ok to take a break after everything that happened. But he’s fucking sure. He needs direction, he doesn’t need more time to be obsessive and pathetic. 

He starts school at Saint Benedicts the next week, and predictably it fucking sucks. 

It’s a lot bigger than Woodsboro high, but that’s not exactly surprising. It’s just this big cinderblock building in the middle of the city, surrounded by a chain link fence. Kinda looks like a prison, which is maybe a little funny after everything.

The secretary does a double take when he turns up for his class schedule and she isn’t the first person who’s done that, not even close. His face was all over the news after it happened, they used one of his old school pictures and he sort of wishes they’d asked for a new one because his hair looked fucking stupid in that one. 

“I saw your story-” This bitch is nearly whispering, eyes bright behind her glasses as he hands over his registration papers. 

It’s like she knows she shouldn’t bring it up but she can’t help herself. Are you going to ask for my autograph? She stares sort of expectantly, like there’s something he should have to say about the fact that she watches the news like millions of other americans. Good for you?

“On CNN?” She elaborates, and when he doesn’t reply she takes it as a cue to keep talking. “I just think it’s horrible, what you went through.” He almost smiles at that. It’s everyone’s favorite line. His driver’s ed instructor said the exact same thing and so did the chick at the gas station who sold him his smokes yesterday. “You’re such an inspiration,” She’s still talking apparently, really ticking all the boxes. 

“Thanks.” He cuts her off as she hands him his schedule. He’s already biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing and he’ll break if she keeps going. 

It’s not funny for long though. 

Everyone stares when he steps into his new homeroom and it’s just… a lot of faces. A lot of strangers, and it’s been years since he’s had to walk into a room like this alone. The teacher’s eyebrows shoot up when Billy introduces himself but apparently he has mercy because he lets him go find a seat without making a big deal about it. There’s only one free desk though and he’s only just sat down when the dude behind him starts tapping his shoulder, and god what the fuck, honestly-

He jerks himself away and whips around, which does at least startle the asshole enough to have him sitting back a little in his seat. He doesn’t actually look like he’s backing off though, and unlike the secretary he’s clearly not trying to hide his excitement. He’s straight up grinning. 

“Final boy!” The guy blurts. Jesus christ-

“The fuck did you just call me?” 

“Final boy,” The creep is bouncing his eyebrows and Billy briefly imagines putting a bullet between them. “-Y’know, cause your girlfriend killed everyone you know.” God fucking damn it. At first he felt cocky thinking about the fact that he’d managed to pin the shit on Sid, but now people are acting like she was Micheal fucking Myers. “Except you and your buddy…” This asshole is still talking, leaning forward over his desk, palms pressed flat against the wood top. He looks gleeful, like he thinks he’s building up to something. “guess you’re not really the final boy then, are you?” Billy does his best to keep his reaction inside but he feels his lips press together, and the creep’s grin widens. “One of a pair, quite the plot twist…” Dumb fuck you sound like Randy.

“It’s not a plot twist,” He snaps. “It’s been done before.” This douchebag is obviously trying to get a reaction and he should probably ignore him but he can’t help it.

“What?” The guy isn’t quite grinning anymore but he doesn’t exactly look humbled. Maybe he’s baiting but Billy’s too tired and annoyed not to bite, so he does.

“Lost Boys, The Thing, Jaws.” The titles shoot out of him like bullets and he puts up a finger for each.  “Category is?”

“Flicks with two male survivors…” Creep is smiling again, but there’s something different about it this time. Curious. Billy doesn’t like that.

“There you go, now screw off.” He’s turning back to the front, really hoping this guy will take the hint, but apparently he needs the last word.

“Guess you’re right, it’s not that original after all.” Mother fucker.

He wants nothing more than to turn back around with a comeback but it’s not going to help anything and he knows it. He’s still gritting his teeth as class starts but he makes it through alright. Mostly. People keep looking at him, but he keeps his eyes on the blackboard and makes a bee-line for the door the moment the bell rings, jamming his headphones down over his ears to drown out the chatter.

People keep staring though. For the rest of the day everyone’s fucking looking at him, every teacher has something sickly and sympathetic to tell him and his increasingly foul mood somehow does nothing to ward them off. He gets paired with some blonde chick in biology, and she obviously knows who he is but she doesn’t bring it up. She forgets to ask his name though, sits too close and leans in even closer when they have to share a microscope, so he’s not exactly surprised when she tracks him down after the final bell.

“Billy?” She calls out to him like she knows him and he feels his mouth pulling into a tight line. 

“I never told you my name.” She’s smiling until he says that, and at least there’s something satisfying about the way her face falls. 

“I- I mean yeah,” She stutters, swallows. “I’ve seen you on the news… um. I’m sorry, by the way. About what happened to you…” She trails off, just staring at him like she’s waiting for him to pick up the slack in this disaster of a conversation. Just like the fucking secretary and every second stranger he’s spoken to since this shit went down. “Well... I was just wondering if you wanted to go to the movies some time?” 

He can tell that she’s hot, or at least Stu would think so; big tits, short skirt. For a second he thinks maybe he should fuck her but there’s really no reason to. Stu would never know, not unless Billy stooped so low as to call him up like the pathetic attention-seeking fag he is. Hey Stu, welcome back to the land of the living. I screwed some chick you would have drooled over. I was thinking about you when I did it. Nope. Fuck no. So there’s no point.

“No,” He hears himself say. “I’m good.” 

She looks like she just stubbed her toe, taking a step back and saying something like oh ok and see you tomorrow but he’s barely paying attention anymore. He’s already walking away, pulling his headphones up again and skipping through a couple tracks as he makes his way out of the school. 

He’s somehow thinking he’s actually going to make it out without another disruption. He’s really not sure he could keep it together through another pointless conversation like that, he’s already fighting to keep his hands still, digging his nails into his palms and gnawing on the inside of his cheeks. Just listen to the song, he’s thinking, just listen to the fucking song. He’s so out of it he almost jumps when someone steps into his path. It’s the fucking dude from homeroom because who else would it be?

“Are you following me?” Billy’s yanking his headphones down again maybe a minute after he put them back on, and this time he’s thinking maybe I should just punch this guy. He could get away with that right? 

“Feelin’ a little paranoid, huh?” Dude’s got his hands in his pockets, shoulder’s relaxed like Billy isn’t obviously on the verge of squaring up. “Y’know not everyone’s out to get you. Some people just wanna-”

“Mickey, come on man,” Some preppy douchebag appears over Mickey’s shoulder, slinging an arm around and pulling him back a little. “- leave the guy alone, he’s been through enough.” Prep turns to look at Billy, smiling like a fucking politician. “Sorry, his bark is worse than his bite.” And there’s something about hearing that, coming out of this guy’s mouth that has him thinking my dog can bite just as good as he barks. But that’s not his dog anymore.

The prep is still talking and creepy Mickey is still staring but Billy is done with the interaction so he’s pushing past the two of them, saying something like:

“I don't care.” But really he’s just trying not to think about him .

Because he doesn’t need to be thinking about how he would have had a comeback or about how funny all this bullshit would be to him. He doesn’t need to be thinking about how he ate lunch alone today and how he has no desire to try and make a fucking friend here. He’s been having thoughts like that a lot lately, and it’s not getting better with time. 

He lights up his third cigarette of the day and lifts it to his lips with a shaking hand. There’s a hollow feeling settling into him, a familiar one. It’s the way your stomach hurts when you’re really, really hungry. Eating doesn’t fix it though. Smoking doesn’t fix it, laying in bed doesn’t fix it, and drinking makes it worse. 

It hasn’t gone anywhere by the time he gets home and his mom is still out, so he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with himself other than stare at the wall and drive knuckles into the permanent blue bruises on his thighs. They’ve been there since Stu woke up in October, he can’t stop renewing them and they ache with every step he takes.

So he gets out of the apartment, he walks aimlessly until his feet hurt and he smokes until he feels nauseous, and then he just can’t walk anymore so he goes home. She’s still not there and he should probably eat but he can’t so he gets in the shower instead, sits under the spray until he runs out of hot water but it doesn’t do shit, and his mind is still racing, hounding him, fucking attacking him, and he can’t take it anymore. He breaks. 

He pulls out his phone and checks the voicemail.

“Uh- hi. Billy.” Stu’s voice sounds like it’s being pushed through sandpaper and Billy feels his stomach clench. He wants to shut it off. He doesn’t want to hear any more. He doesn’t shut it off. There’s a pause, and then Stu seems to try again. “Hey, man,” Fuck.  “I’m uh- I’m awake now. Guess you knew that though. Um.” Just by the sound of him Billy knows what his expression is and it makes his eyes squeeze shut, makes his nails dig into his palm.  “Just uh- hope you’re doing good and shit. Call me back.”

The message ends and the automated voice cuts in, telling him to press 1 if he wants to delete it. 2 if he wants to save it. He tries to press 1, thinks about it. His finger hovers over the button but when he tries to actually do it he feels like he’s going to vomit. He presses 2, then he shoves his phone back under his mattress and curls up under his blankets, fully clothed.

The problem is that he used to go to Stu’s when he felt sick like this, but back then Stu wasn’t the sickness. 

Stu would be excited to see him, would make him food and act like a dumbass or piss him off to distract him, then he’d take him to his room, put on a movie, and make him cum until he couldn’t remember why he was sick in the first place. 

He shouldn’t need any of that.  

He shouldn’t fucking need anyone but himself and it’s his own fault that he does. For the first time in his life he thinks he understands his dad; It’s better to make sure you don’t really give a shit about anyone because it’s like pulling teeth to stop once you start. Actually it’s worse than that. 

He briefly imagines himself cut in two, severed intestines spilling out sideways and mashed up brain matter mixed in with fragments of his skull. He shivers, curls in on himself a little tighter and pulls the blanket over his head. He feels cold but he knows he’s not, feels like his lungs can’t expand all the way and he’s low on air. He stays that way until he hears his mom getting home, and usually he would have picked himself up, stuffed it down and gone out to greet her but he just can’t. He keeps telling himself to do it but his body won’t move. 

“Billy?” Of course she’s coming to check on him. She knocks on his door and he needs to respond, tell her he’s fine or something but he’s fucking not, and in the end it turns out he’s waited too long because she’s opening the door. “Billy, honey are you ok?”

Say something, just fucking talk. He opens his mouth but the words get lost somewhere on the way. 

“Oh sweetie,” He hears her crossing the room, feels his mattress sink at the edge as she sits down. “It’s hard right now, isn’t it?” His throat knots up. Understatement of the year.  

He can tell by the tone of her voice that she’s worried but it seems far away. She sits there for a while, tries to ask if he’s hungry, if he wants to go see a movie, and the longer she stays the longer he wants to tell her to fuck off. In the end she gives up though, and the quiet swallows him whole. At some point she brings him a plate of food but he doesn’t eat it. He just lays there, hugging a pillow until he passes out.

The next day he feels a little bit better but that’s only because he may as well have flatlined. He’s barely present, barely speaking, not even noticing the staring at school. It’s almost bearable. If he can’t feel anything he can’t ache either.

He makes it through one day of this before his mom sits him down about it. He can’t exactly blame her, he’s not keeping up the act and she’s just playing her role. He can’t stop telling her he’s fine but he can’t look at her face either.

“Billy…” Her expression makes him want to scream, but that’s not going to help his case. “I understand why you wanted to leave Woodsboro but since we’ve been here you’ve been… well, I know you need your alone time, you always have but-” And he fucking knows what she’s about to say because they’ve already had this conversation, back before he met Stu and again every time he’s tried to cut him out.  

It’s not good for you to spend so much time alone, sweetie . He knows, he’s heard it too many times and he just sort of snaps. 

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child!” He doesn’t really speak to her like that and it’s obvious she’s surprised. For a second he thinks he sounds like his dad, and if he didn’t feel nauseous before he does now.

“I’m…. I’m sorry. Billy .” She sounds sort of panicked now and he feels himself cringe. “You’ve been through so much this year and I know you’re strong. You’re so grown up now, I can see that, but I-” Her voice is rising, trembling, increasingly raw as she picks up speed. “-I almost lost you once and I am not going to watch my only son self-destruct just because some screwed up little bitch lost her mind!” By the end of the sentence she’s basically yelling, eyes wide so the whites show all the way around and for the first time in days he almost feels warm. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her swear before. “...Pardon my language,” She looks maybe a little self conscious about the bitch part, but this is the closest he’s felt to her since she left in the first place. “-But that harlot is six feet deep and I won’t let her take you with her.”

And maybe this is what he needs. A little sympathy from someone who doesn’t think his ex was the boogeyman. 

“It’s not fair,” He lets his face fall and when she holds her arms out he leans in. “It isn’t fair, she ruined everything,” His voice cracks and it’s not entirely fake. “-Everything was going to be fine and she ruined it-” It comes out fast and forceful like a cough, and she squeezes him tighter, so tight that it’s almost hard to breathe.

Everything really was fine until Gale fucking Weathers showed up. Until Sid took that stupid walkie-talkie and ran off. They could have made it out if they’d just ended it then, even with the way he’d already fucked up in the kitchen, they could have called 911 and they would have been fine . 

“Oh sweetie, I should have known,” He can hear the tears in her voice, he doesn’t need to look. “I should have been there to protect you… a girl with a mother like that?” Yeah, may she rot in hell . “You know I had a bad feeling about her, that’s a mothers intuition. I never liked her. Never .”  She’s petting his hair somewhat frantically now, he can feel her tears dripping onto his shoulder and he feels vindicated even as his hands shake. There’s something so strangely satisfying about this, the guilt and the hatred pouring out of her. “I should have listened to my gut, I should never have let you take her out-” She sounds almost hysterical, and he desperately wants more of it. “Oh Billy, I’m so sorry-”

“She never loved me,” He says this in his most pathetic tone, making his breath stutter like he’s crying too. Sure, it would have been sort of satisfying to find out that Sid did love him in the end, just to twist the knife a little further, but it’s not like it really matters. Either way It has his mother squeezing him tighter. “She lied about everything and I fell for it,”

“She didn’t deserve you,” She says this slowly, emphasis on every word like she’s trying to make sure it all sinks in and he’s basking in it. “That girl was pure evil. You know that don’t you, baby? Evil.” 

“Yeah,” He says it small, makes himself sound young. “She- she took everything,” If anyone was watching he’d be mortified, but it’s just the two of them so he buries his face in her shoulder and he smiles. 

“No, no she didn’t, she couldn’t! She lost because you were better than her,” She speaks firmly, and he feels her shaking her head. “She didn’t take me and she didn’t take Stu either.” The moment she says that name Billy feels himself tense, and suddenly this conversation is a lot less fun. Especially when she pulls back to look at him with pity on her face. “You miss him, don’t you?” 

“No-” The word is weak and reflexive and it’s obvious she sees through it. Come on you piece of shit, you can fake it better than that.

“Of course you do sweetie, “ Her voice is way too gentle and his throat feels like it might be closing up. “He’s your oldest friend.” He’s so much more than that, and I’m completely fucked. “You know I was thinking… wouldn’t it be nice for us to visit Woodsboro for a few days over Christmas?” 

That suggestion should make him panic. It should turn his stomach like everything else does, but all he feels is relief. Because of course he does. 

It’s the same way he feels when his mom leaves for work and he can have his first smoke of the day without getting nagged. The relief is chased by a hollow kind of panic, but at least for a few minutes before it sets in he’s ok. This is that, only a thousand times more. God, just the possibility of it makes him desperate enough that he wants to start punching his legs again, but at the same time another part of his brain is running calculations. 

Like, maybe this is exactly what he needs. 

Maybe he’s been going about this all wrong, just running away and cutting himself off all at once. Like really, what was he thinking? Every movie needs a proper ending and besides that you’re not supposed to quit cold turkey when you’re dependent on something, it just makes sense. Of course he’s hung up on this, he left the script off on a cliffhanger. He just needs to wrap up the plot.

So he’s going back to Woodsboro for Christmas, and that means he needs a plan. He just needs to get all the pathetic homo shit out of his system so he doesn’t have to wonder about it anymore. He’s going to binge so he can get himself sick of it, then he’s cutting himself off. He’s going to see Stu, he’s going to give their movie an ending, and he’s going to move on with his fucking life.

The moment he starts thinking about what binging means it’s like the floodgates have opened though, and he can’t get it out of his head. It’s just this weird, off-kilter feeling because fuck he’s excited and he hasn’t felt that way since before Stu’s house burnt down. 

It’s not just excitement though, it’s something that grips him around the lungs and makes him want to hide because he’s not just thinking about getting his dick sucked. He keeps thinking about just like, kissing him. He just wants to look at him, see him smile with his new face and shit, and that’s so fucking stupid, he knows it’s stupid. But he’s still thinking about it. 

He’s thinking about Stu’s ass too, Stu’s dick, Stu’s hands, Stu’s freshly scarred mouth. He’s fucking himself with his fingers, fucking his fist and thinking about pushing into Stu, Stu pushing into him, Stu inside him, fucking his brain out until he can’t even think anymore. Needless to say he’s jacked off more in the few days since winter break started than he had for months before that. 

He’s thinking about Stu for other reasons too, that’s why he ends up buying a brand new Polaroid camera. 

He was just walking past the window when he saw the display, and he’s inside handing over his card without a second thought. He remembers when Stu got the old one on his 12th birthday. They wasted the first pack of film taking pictures of each other running around the woods in halloween costumes because they wanted to convince Leslie there were monsters living behind the house. Then Stu started carrying the thing around everywhere, jumpscaring him with the flash and snap of the shutter. There were hundreds of blurry pictures of him, snarling and swiping at the camera. 

He wanted to smash that thing more than once and looking back on it he’s not really sure why he didn’t. He definitely had the opportunity to, managed to wrestle it away a few times and lifted it over his head like he was going to drop it but he never did. He’s not even sure if the threat was real back then. 

You would smash it today. You would do so much worse than that. 

The camera in his backpack weighs a hundred pounds on the walk home but he’s not going to bring it back. As much as the thought of actually giving it to Stu makes him want to take a shotgun to the face, it also feels like a compulsion when he thinks about seeing him. When he reminds himself that it’s supposed to be the last time. 

He’s not expecting to feel as anxious as he does when they pass the town limits, but he’s tapping his legs now and his mom is side-eying him. She hasn’t asked yet but it’s only a matter of time, so he’s trying to get it under control. It’s not just Stu he’s stressing about, it’s his dad now too, because for some fucking reason they’re staying at the house with him. He thinks it’s a terrible idea and he said as much, but his mom brushed him off. She told him Hank had apologized, she said we’re a family, as if that means anything to his fucking father. 

When they get there it’s pretty much his worst nightmare, because Hank is on his best behaviour and it’s nauseating. He makes a passing attempt with Billy, like good to see you son, but he really turns on the charm for his mom. It’s all Nancy, you look gorgeous, can I get you a drink? Don’t worry, I remember your order. Billy’s pretty sure he sees Hank winking, and he wants to throw something. The worst part is that she isn’t totally resistant to it- or she is at first, but Hank is doting more than he ever has in Billy’s memory. 

He has to watch in horror as her polite smile and reserved responses turn to genuine smiles and laughter, especially when Hank starts topping up her glass. He feels like he’s losing his mind. She’s acting like this is all normal, like the past two years never happened and he’s really starting to think he’s going to snap so he escapes to his room. 

His room doesn’t feel like a refuge anymore, though. It feels like a crime scene, and not in a good way.

Nothing’s changed and maybe that’s the problem; it isn’t a living space anymore, it’s just been sitting here for months like a dried out corpse. Worse than that there’s evidence everywhere, posters on his walls they put up together, tapes they had on in the background while they fought or laughed or fell asleep, so many fucking polaroids. And the shoebox. He wants to burn it all, he wants to preserve it forever, and he doesn’t ever want to touch it. 

And then there’s his copy of Halloween, sitting out on top of his tv stand.

It’s the same with the copy Stu stole for him ages ago, just one of many things he’s stolen for Billy over the years. But it was there the first time he fucked Stu, and it was there the night they killed everyone. It’s their leitmotif, the theme that carried them through the plot. And as much as it sucks to admit, it was maybe kind of a really good plot. This tape is the most meaningful piece of memorabilia he owns. Stu deserves to have it.

So he puts it in his backpack with the camera, and he tries to forget about it.

For the rest of the 23rd he alternates between being uncomfortable eating meals and watching movies with his parents to being uncomfortable alone in his room. On the 24th he pulls his hood up, puts on his sunglasses and bikes around town until he’s about to collapse, then he boils himself alive in the shower for a while. After that he sits through another movie with his parents, then makes an act of going to bed so he can climb out his bedroom window and chainsmoke. At the very least there’s shit to do on the 25th. 

He gets a bunch of stuff this year and it’s all marked from mom and dad, but it’s obviously all from his mom. There’s some new clothes, a bunch of tapes, a pair of boots he actually really likes, and a bike to replace the one he left at Stu’s the night the house burnt down. Hank gets his mom expensive jewelry and a designer handbag because he’s a total fucking cliché.

He’d be more annoyed by it all but It’s kind of hard to focus on that stuff knowing what he’s planning on doing tomorrow. He’s only half there as they drive around to visit family, and he’s not even sure which movie they ended up watching when they got home. He can’t sleep either though, so it’s another night of smoking his throat raw. 

Then it’s the 26th. Stu’s parent’s will almost definitely have left by now and he’s driving back to LA on the morning of the 28th, so this is it. Not yet though, later. This doesn’t feel like the type of thing he can do while the sun is still up.

That’s a problem though, because it means he has hours to waste. It’s too much time but it’s also not nearly enough for something like this. It’s the falling action of his very first movie, he needs to get it right. 

Of course everything seems more complicated when he looks in the mirror all he can see is the fact that he hasn’t had a hair cut in months and he sort of looks like a mess. Getting dressed isn’t any easier, it’s not usually something he thinks about all that much but now he can’t make a basic decision about whether he should wear a polo or a t-shirt. He goes with the fucking t-shirt, he gives up on his fucking hair, and he bikes over to Stu’s new place with a backpack full of shit that embarasses the hell out of him. 

Goddamn Roxbury street. No way he could have forgotten Leslie saying they’d moved into the Poltergeist house. Well, not really, that’s in Simi Valley but still. Roxbury street. 

The ride over isn’t short but it feels like it only lasts a few seconds, and just like that he’s pulling up outside the new house that’s apparently Stu’s now. It’s not right. Not the right shape, not the right color, way too close to the house next to it, and as he scans the windows he realizes he has no clue which one opens into Stu’s bedroom. So he’s going to have to knock on the front door. And Leslie’s car is in the driveway too, which isn’t a disaster, she mostly leaves them alone when she’s around, but that doesn’t mean he wants to have to talk to her and seem normal right now. 

He’s been standing on his bike just staring at the house for like 5 stupid minutes before he realizes he’s being a little bitch, so he forces himself to climb off and walk up to the door. He takes a breath, he lifts his hand, and he knocks. There’s a light tremor running under his skin, constant, like static. That’s only until the door opens though, after that it feels like time has stopped. 

It’s him , standing in the doorway of this house that isn’t his, looking completely different and exactly the same, and Billy feels an overwhelming heat rushing up inside him. 

Stu’s face has been ripped apart and sewn back together, and it’s absolutely breathtaking. 

A jagged line of scarring slices down the left side of his face, tearing through his eyebrow and down his cheek, intersecting with another that shreds through his upper lip. There’s a couple more cutting across the bridge of his nose, a few more below his eye and he looks like- 

-There’s a shard, a big one buried in his fucking eye, and there’s too much blood, too much swelling and shredded tissue to even see what’s happening underneath. His nose is clearly broken, more glass spiking through the bridge, ripping through his cheek. His upper lip is torn all the way through on one side and there’s so much blood in his teeth- 

“H-hi…” Stu pulls him up out of the memory, and there he is, skin, scar tissue and that one blue eye that broke him back in October. God, I missed you, I want you so fucking much, what the fuck did you do to me- 

“Stu,” He’s struck with a sudden need to know what those new scars feel like, but the thought of it makes his heart thud. He’s supposed to be binging now, though. He’s supposed to be letting himself do the homo stuff, so he reaches out and suddenly he’s touching Stu’s face. 

Stu startles a little, both eyes open wide. One of them is this glossy white glass, and the sight of it aches but it also coils up in Billy’s stomach in a way that decidedly doesn’t feel guilty. It’s like he’s looking at a painting but he can feel the ridges and rifts of it under his fingertips, and for the first time in a month he’s here . Every part of him, all at once.

Under his fingers, Stu’s face relaxes. His eyes have fallen closed so those blond lashes fan out against his cheeks, a stark contrast to the rippled red flesh where his skin is healing. There are still marks where the stitches held him together and Billy finds himself tracing them, two fingers pushing against the side of Stu’s throat just a little harder to feel his pulse. God, you’re so hot how are you so fucking hot? How did you get so much hotter? How are you here, how am I touching you, holy-

“Fuck.” He doesn’t mean to say it. Christ, he really forgot how hard this is, and somehow it’s even harder now that he’s letting himself do it fully. He makes himself drop his hand, has an urge to run away and another to die on the spot, but then he blinks and Stu’s still there, looking at him the way he always has. Fuck, I missed you.

Stu makes half a joke about coming in the front door but he sounds nervous and Billy has to look away to swallow the lump that rolls up his throat. He manages to say something though, and Stu stutters something back and we’ve been inside each other too many different ways to be acting like this.

“Well? You just gonna make me stand here or are you gonna invite me in?” The momentary annoyance snaps him back to himself and it seems like it does the same for Stu because then he’s stumbling over himself to invite Billy in, and it just feels so stupid good to have his attention again.

It feels even better when Stu starts doing the thing, kneeling at his feet to untie his shoes like nothing’s changed at all and it wells up in him, fills his hands with so much energy that he’d be embarrassed to expel it so he just stuffs them in his pockets and chews on his lip. Then Stu looks up, cheeks flushing under cross-hatched scars and torn lips parted, and Billy can’t help but wonder, what does it feel like to kiss you now? He sort of wants to grab him right here, pull him up and find out exactly what it feels like but Stu’s already looking away, looking shy as Billy hands over his coat.

That's a rare thing for him. Kind of makes Billy want to hit him but it’s not because he’s annoyed. Stu’s facing away, fumbling with his jacket and a hanger and he just needs to try something.

“Good boy.” He says, and he can’t deny the fact that he means it completely. 

Stu’s reaction to that is immediate, he straight up shivers, nearly drops the shit he’s holding, and god that so good, it never gets old, how does it never get old? It’s so fucking delicious he can’t resist making it worse so he flirts and Stu gets all squirmy, stuttery, and Billy would be on him already if they weren’t in the middle of the hallway. 

So now Stu’s leading him through his new house, leading him up the stairs and mostly he’s still drunk on the interaction, warm and hazy and looking at Stu’s ass until they reach his room. 

His new room. 

It’s… weird. There’s barely any Stu in it, it’s just naked walls and a brand new shelf full of brand new tapes sitting next to a brand new tv. When he was 13 he’d put a blockbuster sticker on the side of Stu’s old TV, and Stu had changed it to “cockbuster” with a sharpie maybe a year after. When he was 15 they’d stolen a Candyman poster straight off the wall in the theater, and he’d helped Stu put it up later. He remembers Stu handing him a couple thumbtacks and asking him to push them in while he held the poster up, and he remembers using one of those tacks to prick Stu’s arm. He remembers the sound Stu made and the way he lifted his arm to lick away the dot of blood rising up. 

That poster is gone now and he hates how that feels, but then his eyes fall on a print of an x-ray scan that has to be Stu and he feels so much worse. Like jesus christ did the glass actually go that deep? How the fuck did you survive that? He rips his gaze away from the image and blinks hard. 

“I miss your posters.” He says, but it sounds like a lot more than that, and it’s like it draws Stu forward because suddenly his chest is warm against Billy’s back, arms around him, holding him close.

God, it feels so good to be touching you. It’s not just the heat of his skin or the way he takes Billy’s weight. It’s everything, it’s the way he smells, the sound of his breath and-

“I missed you so fuckin’ much, dude.” He can feel the unsteady breath Stu takes after he says it and it makes his whole body tense.

Yeah, fuck, I missed you too but I’ll be gone in the morning. And there’s a part of him starting to think this is all a terrible idea, thinking am I fucking delusional? Because the whole ‘make yourself sick of him’ thing seemed brilliant back in LA but now he’s starting to wonder if that’s even possible and it turns his stomach. But he can’t be thinking about that right now, he can’t, because he’s not going back on another promise. If he backs out now he’ll only end up coming back. Stop freaking out, stick to the fucking plan, don’t think about what happens after. 

Billy forces himself to turn, forces himself to breathe and tries to focus on the feeling of Stu’s chest, rising and falling under his hands, and that helps a little. Only now he has to deal with what’s in the stupid backpack. It had seemed like the right idea when he came up with it but like the rest of the plan it seems kind of fucking crazy now. He’s never given Stu a christmas present. He’s never given Stu any present.

Ok… so that’s not exactly true. There were fruit roll-ups, pebbles, dandelions, and a dead bee he’d found on the playground once, but that was before he knew what he was doing. He was maybe 10 when he got wise and since then he’s only given Stu scars and bruises. Stop being dramatic, stop thinking about that, just suck it up and do the fucking plan. 

“Here.” He says, and he holds out his backpack. 

The moment Stu takes it his nervous system kicks into overdrive, head going light and vision fuzzy like he just smoked half a cigarette in a single inhale, and the next couple minutes are a bit of a blur.

Stu’s confused at first when he pulls out the tape, asks if Billy’s giving it back but he seems close to tears the moment he understands it’s a gift, and Billy can’t handle that right now, basically says as much. To his credit Stu does manage to reel it in, at least until he pulls out the camera and then he actually does start crying. Tears still fall from the left side too and it’s so fucking pretty it makes him angry, but then Stu’s tackling him down and he’s only offering the barest resistance before he lets himself lose his mind.

Fuck, I missed kissing you-

Stu’s on top of him, all over him, tongue in his mouth and hands on his waist, and it’s so damn good. It does feel different, the places where his lips knit back together. Billy runs his tongue along them, can’t keep himself from biting even though he’s half trying to be gentle but Stu’s just moaning into his mouth, kissing him harder until he has to pull back and surface for air.

They’re both just breathing for a second, and when his eyes focus Stu’s own are closed. Up close the scar tissue is shiny pink, jagged and beautiful, and god I’m such a fucking faggot. All of this was torn apart, this face was completely unrecognizable but here he is. Together, alive, and breathtaking. 

Of all things he finds himself asking how those new scars feel, touching them. He can’t look away, and usually he’d feel embarrassed for the way he’s staring, for the fact that he’s just touching Stu’s face. Not hurting him or covering his mouth, just touching him. 

“Aches a little.” Stu says, but it sounds like there’s more at the back of his tongue. Like he’s swallowing it down “It’s no big. Told you I’d give up an eye to fuck you, right?” How could I forget. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, and it’s just another thing that makes him feel like there are fireworks going off inside him at the same time as it makes him feel kind of sick. “You know I’d do anything for a nut, baby.” God, Stu-

“You’re certifiable, they should lock you up.” He’s trying to do his usual cocky thing but it doesn’t quite come out right. He doesn’t know what the fuck he sounds like, but it’s obvious Stu likes it.

“Can you keep a secret?” Stu’s grin pulls tight as he leans in closer, and fuck the way the scarring tugs his lip- “ I’m a serial killer .” Stu’s voice is low, mostly air and base notes against the side of his neck and he’s laughing but also, fuck, he’s hard. He’s thinking about Stu, tearing Casey apart, slitting that camera man’s throat, chasing Sid down in the mask. This rabid animal. 

“Shit,” Billy’s voice comes out breathy, half laughter and half arousal. He’s not sure when but his hands have moved down Stu’s chest to start sliding up under his shirt. He knows every single one of the scars on his hips, the layers of them, cut and re-cut, and so so good every time. And suddenly he’s wondering what that would feel like. Just little cuts in a dark room instead of a full on stabbing under bright kitchen lights.“You gonna kill me Mister Ghostface?” 

You sound like a whore, he’s thinking, but it’s hard to be upset about that because he can feel Stu getting hard against his hip. His gaze goes blank for a second, the way it does when he gets so horny he can’t think straight and Billy kind of hates that he thinks it’s cute but at this point it’s not exactly surprising.

“Hey dummy, did you short circuit?” He taps on Stu’s forehead and the idiot blinks a few times, blue eye coming back to a focus. Yeah. Definitely thinking about dick. “What’s your malfunction?” Stu does a breathy little laugh and then his hands are pushing up under Billy’s shirt, finger warm but unexpected enough to make him jump a little. 

Those fingers don’t just rest on his skin though, they travel up, honing in on that one scar. The one he presses into when he’s alone in LA. 

It’s like Stu knows exactly where it is without looking, like his hands are drawn back to the wound they opened up, and Billy’s chest seizes. He can’t breathe for a second, feels like he might be on the verge of panic except for the fact that the thing stealing his air is also the only anchor he’s got, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. 

“Y-you fucking pervert.” He’s trying to claw his way back to status quo but the stuttering isn’t doing him any favors. 

“I was hard-” And that’s not at all what he’s expecting Stu to say but it does give him another chance to grab the upper hand.

“You’re hard now.” He pulls him in a little closer, tries not to gasp at the feeling of it as he grinds against it, and Stu’s eye nearly rolls back in his head. He squeezes it shut for a second though, scrunches his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“N-no, in the kitchen. When I stabbed you.” Oh, fuck. I was hard when I stabbed you. 

The sentence loops in his mind and it’s not like he hasn’t been replaying that memory. Because no, he wasn’t prepared for that, not like Stu was. He’s never been that completely overwhelmed or out of control in his life, at least not since he was a child. But there’s no one else in the known universe he’d let do that. And maybe yeah, there’s a part of him warming at the thought of it. At the thought of Stu, bleeding and still hard as he pushes that pretty knife into Billy’s stomach-   

“Also when you stabbed me.” Stu adds, way too casual. “Uh- the first time at least. Turns out it’s tough to stay up when you’re bleeding out.”

Fuck. Fuck. When I stabbed you too many times. When I ruined everything.

Billy’s stomach drops out of him and he swallows dry, barely seeing Stu right in front of him. He feels him tense though, and that’s not what he wants, not at all, so he forces himself to breathe out and focuses on the skin under his fingers. He continues to feel along the earliest scars he’d made, then slides his hands up to the first and second ones from the kitchen. Something brings him to press his palm against those ones, the deep ones where he pushed all the way in.

And Billy thinks he might be the worst, because it’s not like he hasn’t been coveting that memory. He remembers the exact sounds Stu made, remembers the resistance of his skin under the blade- Stu’s blood is gushing out around his knife, coating his hands slick and hot, his body shaking and his breath heaving-

Stu shudders, inhales and relaxes, and when Billy looks up at him he just looks happy, grateful of all things, and it makes him want to smack him as much as he wants to kiss him. Instead, he starts pushing his shirt up and Stu doesn’t hesitate to go along with it. 

There’s a second after he tosses his shirt aside where he gets tense again though, that newly crooked smile pulls tight and Billy doesn’t know what he’s thinking but he knows he doesn’t want him to be thinking it, not right now. So his hands keep moving, up to his own initial, down to the slash across his upper arm and all he can think is fuck, you’re perfect and I can’t have you.

Because he’s never really looked at anyone else the way he looks at Stu. He can logically recognize an attractive person and every once and a while there’ll be a character in a movie and he’ll look at them and think, yeah, sure. But Stu’s the only real person, in the flesh, in his world, who he thinks about like this. 

As much as he hates to admit it there’s a reason he goes for porn with blonde dudes. 

And it’s over after this. So get it while you can, you piece of shit.

So he’s pushing Stu back into the sheets and he’s climbing on top, straddling his hips, and Stu’s looking up at him, red cheeked and waiting. He’s just frozen for a second though, looking down and thinking this is the last time I’m going to see you like this, and his throat is tying itself into a thick knot. Then Stu speaks and it gets so much worse.

“I missed you so bad, man-” The relief is plain in his voice, plain in the way his blue eye reflects the light from the window and that tugs on the knot, ties it tighter so he nearly chokes. 

But Billy can’t go there right now. Not here, not in front of him, and there’s nothing he can say so he kisses him instead. He’s barely breathing, sucking hard on Stu’s lower lip as his shaking hands move on their own, one grabbing a fistful of that extra-short hair and the other pressing down against the warm skin of Stu’s unguarded throat. He needs this, and by the sound Stu makes against his mouth he does too.

So Billy starts to squeeze and it feels just as good as it did the first time. 

Two years ago, when his mom had just left and he was terrified of everything. When Stu started talking about killing Maureen and Billy had never felt more seen in his life. When Stu sat back against the wall in a house that doesn’t exist anymore, and Billy wrapped his hands around his throat like he’s doing now. Only back then he didn’t have a single fucking clue what he was heading for, and somehow even after everything they’ve been through Stu still wants this.

Stu’s hands are twitching against his legs now, just reflexes as Billy releases his lower lip and then his mouth falls open for a breath he can’t draw in. He’s fucking stunning like this, with his cut up face and his glass eye, his throat working hard against Billy’s palm. His eyes have already rolled back, he’s going to pass out soon and he should let go but-

“You look so fucked up ,” It just falls out of him, sounds shaky like he’s about to start crying or some bullshit, but now that the words are coming up he can’t stop them, and he’s just hoping Stu’s too blissed out to listen.  “- so fucked up, so fucking pretty ,” His voice cracks. “I can’t-” And he doesn’t know what he’s about to say but it doesn’t matter because Stu’s going limp and he’s letting go. 

Stu’s body bucks as he gulps down lungfuls of air, hands re-animating and moving immediately to grope him, dick hard and insistent through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. The gray ones have always made him feel a bit insane, and he’s desperate for a diversion from whatever he was just feeling so he starts attacking Stu with his mouth instead. 

The choking always leaves Stu a little overstimulated so he’s squirming and stuttering at the bare sensation of Billy’s lips or teeth or tongue on his jaw, his reddened neck, his collarbone, and that’s never been anything less than satisfying as hell. He’s almost lost himself in it when he reaches his initial and then fuck. He wants to cut that open again, it’s so light now, way too fucking light and he can’t stand that but he knows he shouldn’t. He can’t cut Stu again. Not when he won’t be sticking around to see it scar. 

He’s not perfect though, he bites instead. He bites hard and sucks harder and he’s hoping it will bruise him badly, keep him here on Stu’s skin for a few weeks after he’s left. As if you haven’t already marked him enough. And fuck, some part of him just wants to say sorry but there’s no way he can do that right now. He can get him off though. his hands rush down and Stu grips him so hard it hurts, breathing his name as he starts to pull down the evil gay sweats. 

“Mutt,” He returns, finally taking Stu in hand and trying not to think about how much he missed the weight of it, the way it drips. It’s so good, everything about you is so fucking good, and he’s not sure what possesses him but he starts talking about how stupidly turned on he was that night, watching Stu kill the camera guy and hide his body. For his part Stu seems like he might be losing his mind but to be fair Billy’s started jerking him off, making his way down to lay between his legs.

There’s a part of him that wants to draw it out longer but the rest of him is impatient as hell and he just wants it in his mouth, so he compromises by licking, working his way up slowly. He lifts his gaze to see Stu squeezing his eyes shut, groaning as he finally lets his lips close around the tip and Stu jerks in his grip, smearing salty drops of cum on his tongue. 

And god, Billy feels that throbbing heat, gathering between his thighs and he’s already really fucking hard, so he starts taunting.

“Are you out of practice, buddy?” He’s spitting, working it over Stu’s cock and just that is enough to have him squirming, scrunching his scarred nose. Sure, he’s always had a bit of a quick trigger at baseline but he’d really built up his stamina. Tonight it’s like they’ve jumped back a year and he’s a nearly shaking mess at the lightest touch. “And here I was thinking I’d trained you out of that habit.” 

“F-fuck you, Billy, god,” It’s more of a moan than any real sort of protest. 

“Not yet, Mutt.” He’s laughing but it’s not malicious, it’s just that Stu’s like a sad little puppy when he gets all needy and bratty like this. “Don’t think you’d last long enough to put it in.” 

“S’that why you wanna blow me so bad?” Stu huffs a breath out his nose and his eyes snap open, the blue one bright with defiance, and Billy feels his mouth twist. “I just thought you were craving some christmas cock meat like last year, remember?” Christmas cockmeat, motherfucker?? “Really cute you’re making it a tradition-”

“Oh fuck you-” He’s not even really mad when he punches Stu in the thigh, but suddenly one of those boney ass knees is flying up to crack him in the nose. 

He hears himself shout again, rolling onto his back as the pain hits and blinds him. Immediately he can feel hot blood running down his lip and finger, and his eyes sting so bad that he thinks they might be tearing but he really can’t tell. Distantly he’s aware that Stu is hovering, talking to him, probably looking dumb and apologetic but Billy can’t make out the words through the ringing in his ears. He’s just trying to breathe, and once he can do that he starts moving his fingers along the bridge to check for a break. It’s definitely tender but he can’t feel any new bumps, so he’s probably alright.

He’s almost coming down until Stu’s hands are in his face again and he’s talking way too much. He has been this whole time and Billy’s heart is pounding, thumping against the inside of his skull until he snaps.

“Asshole!” He’s shoving those hands away, trying to blink himself back. “You almost broke my nose-“ He’s about to keep going but when he looks up Stu’s staring at his bloody mouth the way he stares when he takes his clothes off.

“You almost killed me.” Stu says, and it lines his stomach with ice. 

He’s only just caught his breath after the knee he took to the face and that’s probably the last thing he was expecting to hear. Maybe once he would have lashed out. Maybe there’s a world where he’s not leaving tonight and he decks him for saying that, or maybe he just teases him for it. But he is leaving tonight, so he can’t do that.

“I didn’t mean to.” It sounds desperate, comes out like vomit and he thinks he might actually retch. Stu looks… shocked. Of course he’s fucking shocked, did you just hear yourself?

“S’ok, doesn't matter. Already told you, remember?” Stu’s shaking his head, painfully earnest and pressing fingers into the fresh bruise coloring the B on his chest. “You wanna kill me, you kill me.” And fucking hell, how could he ever forget that? 

That kept him up at night, made him cum and got sucked into his dreams, and he can’t look away from it. You’d forgive me for literally anything, wouldn’t you? And there’s a part of him that thinks it’s the most romantic sentence he’ll ever hear, and he really hates that word but it’s the only one that makes sense right now. But I don’t actually want to kill you, I don’t want to kill you, I don’t want you to die-

“You’re fucking crazy.” He cuts off his own train of thought in the only way he knows how. “Stop making shit weird and let me suck your dick, you piece of shit-” He wants to cringe at himself as he says it but he can’t take any more of this conversation so he’s shoving Stu back down. 

And Stu’s sort of laughing but it’s not right, and fuck, fuck, how am I messing this up so bad? Billy doesn’t want that tonight, he wants pretty, laughing Stu, he wants moaning Stu, Stu making bad jokes and holding him so tight that for once he doesn’t feel like he’s about to fall apart. So he grabs him by the dick and swallows down as much of it as he can on the first go. 

Stu’s writhing, swearing immediately, and that’s more like it, he wants more of that so he’s not wasting time, he’s trying to take in the rest and he’s barely thinking. It’s the heat of Stu in his mouth, the way it cuts off his air supply when it hits and his entire world narrows down to pick up the pace, suck harder, use your tongue, breathe before you can’t, and all of it tastes like blood because the lower half of his face is covered in it. 

He’s painfully hard and his Mutt is helpless, loud and pushing into his throat when he chokes. His stomach tenses hard at the intrusion and he can’t breathe but he doesn’t need to right now, he only needs to swallow and keep going so he does, until his nose touches Stu’s stomach.

“Holy fuck, shit, Billy-” Stu is fucking whimpering, twitching in his throat. “-M’gonna cum!” He sounds like he’s crying and Billy really needs to see that so he forces his eyes open, and fuck.  

Somehow Stu’s O-face is even better now, and he’s not sure if that’s because of the scars or because he thought he might never see it again. For a terrifying second he knows for sure it’s the latter but then Stu’s cum hits the back of his throat and he has to swallow so he doesn’t choke. He clings to that feeling, and it pulls him back into the current.

Stu’s still twitching on his tongue as he pulls off and fuck, his throat hurts in a way that has him squeezing his legs together as he flops back onto the mattress. He makes a passing attempt at wiping his face as Stu slurs out his appreciation, and Billy feels strangely high too but he hasn’t even gotten off yet. 

He’s just riding that, hazy and out of himself for the first time in months when for some reason Stu starts freaking out about the fact that he doesn’t have anything to give him for christmas. He feels too good to go there and ruin it right now though, it’s not like he could even handle a gift from Stu tonight. He couldn’t make himself get rid of Guinea Pig 2 and that knife is still in his pocket, so he re-directs the pretty idiot with his dick.

It doesn’t take much and Stu’s shaking off the post-nut stupidity before Billy can fully catch his breath, already wrestling him onto hands and knees and tugging his pants down. It’s kind of maybe setting him on fire the way Stu’s got his legs pinned, the way he handles him and groans when he finally gets his underwear down. He’s shivering but he’s not cold and he’s barely been touched but he’s so fully erect and all of that is completely humiliating-

“You’re such a fucking fag,” It’s a feeble resistance, and it does nothing for his sense of dignity but god just touch me, asshole.

“We’ve been over this dude,” Stu’s laughing openly, palming the backs of his thighs, his ass, his hips, and his dick fucking aches. ”I swing in all directions.” Very aware of that. “ But I am, ha, I am about to fuck a fag,” And just like that Billy’s brain melts. 

He feels his whole body tense like he just got hit but that thing low in his stomach is still coiling up, pooling down between his legs. Fuck, what am I feeling right now? Because he’s expecting an anger that never really rises up, and what’s left in its absence makes him blush so bad that his face burns. Because Stu’s not saying that word the way other people say it.

“I-I’m gonna kill you?” Christ, maybe he should just shut his dumb whore mouth. 

“Nah, dude. I don’t think you are.” Stu sounds half in awe of that, half cocky as hell and he’s beaming when Billy turns to look over his shoulder. Stu is… fuck. Yeah, Billy’s a fag. It’s just all that skin and scar tissue. It’s also that big stupid dick, already starting to perk up again.

“Ass-” He starts a taunt but Stu cuts him off.

“Yeah baby, ass.” He snickers, and then Billy feels the sting of impact as Stu’s open hand hits his bare ass. He rocks forward from it, feels a deep ache against the spiky heat at the top of his skin and his cock throbs

“I - I’m - ” Stop stuttering, get it together-  “Did you just fucking spank me?” 

“Yeah, I did. Just felt natural, y’know?” Stu’s snickering, clearly enjoying the mortification and it has Billy struggling not to squirm. “Want me to do it again?”

Fuck. Goddamnit . Because he wants to say no but he doesn’t want to say no at all, and actually he can’t even make the shape of the word in his mouth. So he doesn’t say it. Instead he makes a bunch of empty threats. Instead his voice cracks and he shudders when Stu hits him again, instead he’s hiding his face and gripping the sheets and thinking do it again. It’s his last chance right? It’s not like he’d let someone else do it. 

And Stu obviously knows he wants it, there’s laughter in his voice as he dares Billy to tell him to stop. That’s the thing. He could stop Stu for real, if he wanted. But he’s not going to. 

“ Bad. Dog .” He’s looking right at Stu as he says it, and again the sight floors him. 

The hunger wells up under his skin, pushing at his seams and he knows Stu can see it, feels his gaze like a physical thing. Do it again he’s thinking, and Stu does. Again and again and again, taunting him, drawing fingers between his legs to wrap a tight grip around his cock and telling him how hard he is like he isn’t fully aware. 

At this point he’s face down in the blankets, body tensing when Stu’s palm makes contact and melting into nothing as the pain rolls out over his skin and through his muscles. It only gets harder to keep it together when Stu starts stroking his dick, maddeningly slow so he wants to scream until he hits him again, and god, yeah, more, he’s thinking, right as Stu lets go.

He’s shifting though, tugging at Billy’s hips to reposition him before he can complain about the loss, and he’s got nothing left to complain about by the time he feels Stu’s tongue on the back of his thigh. It’s so little but that makes it so much, paints him with goosebumps at the intensity of a light touch, and he feels like he’s about to burst when Stu spreads him open with a hand on his ass, licks over his asshole and holy shit. 

“ Why the fuck are you so good at that…” Billy’s moaning, and Stu’s licking again, humming into his skin. 

There’s always been something so overwhelming about it, the way it makes him squirm against his own will. It’s like it feels too good, so goddamn good that it comes full circle and it almost hurts. Stu clearly loves doing it too, Billy saw his face when he did it in the back of his truck and he looked drunk. Also he might be really good at it because he thinks he could probably die like this if Stu kept doing it long enough. 

When Stu starts jacking him off again he barely stands a chance. The shame is still with him, sitting in the back seat but it’s easy to ignore because he’s busy riding Stu’s tongue.

“Mmff- more,” He can’t help the way his voice sounds, can’t help the way his stomach swoops when Stu pulls him closer, pushing his tongue in further and stroking him harder.  “Yeah, god, just like that- mmm, good boy, fuck-” The praise is involuntary at this point, he’s barely in control of his body and Stu is moaning into him, eating him like he’s his last meal. “Hah, Mutt, god,” Stu’s always gone crazy when he calls him that and tonight is no exception because he’s picking up the pace, adding a twist to his wrist, and god, god, Billy’s going to cum if he’s not careful.

“Ok, christ,” It’s hard to make himself pull away from that but he knows what he wants tonight. “ Enough , would you just fuck me already?” 

“Dude,” Stu just stares at him dumbly after he says it, hard and kneeling behind him.

“I’m not gonna fit without stretching you out a little more,” Stu’s gaze drops to his thighs as he tugs his jeans off, and it takes a second for Billy to realize he’s looking at the bruises and that is not what he wants either of them to be thinking about right now. “lemme just find some lube ok? I’m not goin’ in dry-” Stu’s still talking but he needs to move on from this moment so he’s crawling forward. 

“I can take it,” Billy's growling- he’s not sure he actually can, Stu’s tongue is a lot smaller than his dick but he’s not going to back down now. “- not a bitch.” He’s already climbing into Stu’s lap to grab his cock.

“Never called you a bitch, dude-” Stu looks a little overwhelmed at the contact but it’s obvious he’s doing his best to rein himself in, grabbing Billy around the waist and thwarting his attempts to guide him into place by crushing him against his chest. “You’re still tight as shit though-” 

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Billy’s snapping, sort of trying to push away. It’s not that it isn’t hot, it’s just that Stu’s being fucking bossy tonight and he can only put up with so much of that 

“Why’re you always in a rush?” Stu’s laughing at him so Billy stops trying to push and wraps his arms around him to drag nails down his back instead. “ H-hah , fuck-” Stu’s dick jumps against his ass and he’s planning on teasing him for that but then something cold drips down against his hole.

“Ah!” The sound that comes out of him is fucking humiliating. “Fuck you, fuck you-”

“Sorry, baby I’ll be quick, I promise-” Stu’s slicking him with the lube, warming it between their skin then pushing inside, and after everything Stu did with his tongue his body feels pliant, ready. “God,” Stu’s groaning in his ear, hooking that finger in a way that has him rocking back for more, and just like that he’s in to the last knuckle, pressing up into a spot that makes Billy’s cock jerk against his stomach.

“H-hurry up,” He’s rutting back into Stu’s hand as he starts to press another finger in with the first, and okay, yeah, that’s a stretch but he rides through it, breathes until his body yields and opens. Right now that’s his whole existence, just breathing and fucking himself on Stu’s fingers as he spreads them, rubs them relentlessly against that spot, adds a third finger. He’s so hard that he’s almost dizzy, he’s fucking leaking, leaving a little trail of pre-cum in the fine blond hair on Stu’s stomach, and he thinks he might pass out if he doesn’t cum soon. “Ok I’m fucking stretched, would you just fuck me already-” He’s trying to make it a demand but it might sound more like begging. 

It’s ok though, it doesn’t seem like Stu’s got it together any better than he does, he’s stuttering, pulling his fingers out to slick himself up, and from the sound of his voice he might be about to start crying again. Which is fucking stupid, but... 

“ Mutt ,” He doesn’t usually sound like that but he isn’t really thinking as he moves forward, as he braces his hands on Stu’s fuzzy thighs. His thumbs do little circles, reflexively, just like Stu does to him. Am I comforting you? What the fuck am I doing-

“ Billy, ” He makes a face like he’s teasing but his eyes are still all watery, and the clown mask drops completely as Billy starts to take him in. 

That first push always takes a second but then Stu splits him open and they’re both moaning. It’s, holy shit, he almost tenses up again as he rolls his hips to try and work it in but then Stu’s hands are sliding up his legs, over his hips to settle on his waist and his body just sort of releases. He hears himself exhale, sinks down a little further and Stu’s moaning his name like it’s holy, like he’s the dying saint again. 

Billy knows he’s far from god but he swallows it whole because he’s been starved for days. It has him opening his eyes and there he is. His beautiful Mutt with his mismatched eyes, who was acting so tough minutes ago is now on his back looking up at him so helpless, perfect and pathetic. And against his better judgment Billy loves him.

By the time their hips meet Stu’s tears have spilled, they’re running down his cheeks and Billy feels like he might burst too, from the feeling of fullness and the sight of the man filling him, from the years leading up to this and the future he briefly imagined when he was biking to Stu’s old house for the last time.

Fuck. 

He’s always thought Stu looked pretty when he cried, can’t keep himself from licking away one of those tears and feels himself squeeze down at the taste of it on his tongue, saying something that sounds like affection even though it’s shaped like an insult, and then-

“God, I love you so much…” It's the first time Billy’s heard him say that since the 27th of September and it fills him up with helium, stinging behind his eyes. Not right now, don’t do this right now, don’t ruin this for yourself, shake it off. 

He needs a distraction immediately, and he can’t think of anything better than motion so he plants his hands on Stu’s chest and he starts to move. He pulls up slow, and shit yeah he’s opened up but he’s still gripping tight as Stu’s cock slides out of him. He gasps, shakes a little but those big hands brace him, keeping him steady as he starts to sink back down.

“ Ah- good boy,” The praise isn’t even voluntary, it just spills when he bottoms out. 

His dick rubs against Stu’s stomach in this position and Stu’s whining like a begging dog, looking so fucking pitiful and he wants more begging so he asks for it. Stu delivers, of course he does and Billy grinds against him as he stutters, pleads, whines, digs his fingers into the meat of Billy’s hips and twitches inside him and he’s just soaking it all in until Stu decides to speak directly to the part of him that wants oblivion.

“I wanna fuck you to death,” Stu growls, grabs him tight and pushes up, hitting the depths of him in a way that aches as much as it feels like bliss.

“F-fuck, Stu…” God do I really sound like that? Some part of him wants to shut the fuck up but the rest of him doesn’t agree. “You should-  Oh! Fuck, ” He doesn’t finish the sentence because Stu immediately starts pounding into him and his brain is already melting. “ Yeah-” It’s that feeling of being rearranged on the inside, and because he’s already mindless with it he does nothing to fight when Stu flips him onto his back and covers his mouth, which is- 

“Mmf!” He hears himself moaning, the sound pushing out of him to a percussion everytime Stu rams in all the way so their hips meet and his stomach jumps. He’s breathing hard against Stu’s hand, distantly aware that he should be embarrassed or pissed about the fact that he just decided to shut him up like that but instead his dick twitches and he feels himself squeezing down.

Stu’s really picking up the pace now too, hand covering Billy’s mouth and partially blocking his nose so he can’t quite get enough air and for some reason that’s working too. It’s almost too much but he wants more and his hands are already moving, grabbing at Stu to pull him in harder. He’s nearly dizzy from the relative lack of oxygen and his fingers are starting to tingle, his insides are thrumming, and just as his vision starts to narrow Stu moves his hand.

The air rushes in on his next gasp and his head swims in it, his dick throbs and somehow Stu’s fucking him harder because Stu can always fuck him harder. He’s moaning like a whore again but he feels like a storm system, pressure rising, and it’s impossible to pretend he has any amount of control at this point. Especially not when he tries to start jacking himself off and Stu stops him, not when he pins his wrist to the bed and especially not when he starts jacking him off instead.

Stu’s not done either, the bastard is teasing him for being too loud, flipping him over onto his hands and knees, telling him to chill when he snaps about it and then shoving into him again. It’s not gentle at all and there’s something different about this, something that has him seeing stars, crying out and burning up as Stu rains down with praise. Billy is only a body and an urge as he pushes back for more, and that’s all it takes for Stu to really start drilling him, ass up and face first in the pillows.

And fuck, he’s not even tied up this time but Stu has him helpless again. He’s just a hole getting filled, just a body rocking back and forth, being held, hands gripping sheets. He can’t even shut himself up so he’s all broken encouragement, all Mutt, good boy, just like that, so fucking good , and suddenly Stu’s whining, wrapping arms around him and lifting him back like it’s nothing. He pulls him up against his chest so he’s seated in his lap, rocking up into him and somehow filling him more, pushing into something that feels so good that he can’t think. He feels his eyes roll back, shudders, and hears himself crying out.

“God I love you-” Stu’s voice is raw, half muffled in Billy’s shoulder as he speeds up again, and the sound of it hooks into him, tears through his chest, through his lungs- “I love you, I love you-” It’s like getting shot when he says it, or maybe it’s worse because he wants it.

But you can’t have it.

Billy is looking for oblivion again when he grabs Stu’s hand, pulls it to his throat, and thinks please.

Stu hesitates but it’s only a second before his grip starts to tighten and shit, it’s really different from having his mouth covered. There’s this automatic rush, a shock of instinctual panic humming through his nerves but he’s leaning into it, letting Stu take all his weight as he pounds into him, rips him apart. And he’s melting, bursting at the seams as his blood uses up the last of the oxygen inside him. His limbs aren’t his own anymore, his muscles are twitching uselessly as his vision goes static and narrows, narrows until it’s gone, and then he’s just floating in nothing. 

Except it’s not nothing because Stu is still holding him. 

Stu is wrapped around him, inside him, anchoring him and cutting him free from his tethers, and for a second he imagines it ending here. Ending with Stu all over him, everywhere as his life snuffs out and for a second he wants that desperately. Take it, take everything, take me, I don’t-

Stu lets go of his throat and Billy loses himself entirely. 

“ Fuck ,” His voice feels like glass and every ounce of tension rushes out of him, leaves him limp even as his dick throbs, hot and over-sensitized, and when he tries to gasp in another breath Stu fucks up into him and punches it out. It’s like there’s too much inside him, like it’s all trying to rip out and he can’t do anything other than hold on, fingers grasping at Stu’s short hair. He can feel himself peaking, rushing up to it so fast he can barely breathe even though he desperately needs the oxygen.  “I-I’m, fuck-”  

“C’mon baby, please cum for me,” Stu’s whining, sounding so needy, so pathetic and perfect. “C’mon Billy, I need it, please-” He wraps a fist around Billy’s dick and that’s it, he couldn’t have stopped it if he wanted to. 

His whole body shudders from it, hips bucking as he spills. Stu’s pulling him back again, landing them both on the mattress and holding him so tight he couldn’t possibly be afraid of falling apart. He doesn't pull out either, he’s still inside him, rocking into him slowly, still so fucking hard and Billy’s so sensitive now, feels himself squeezing down around it as the aftershocks roll through him, leaving him boneless. 

That was the last time. It’s the first thought in his mind when he’s come down enough to have thoughts again, and the weight of it on his chest is crushing. He really just needs it not to be true, at least for a second, so he forces himself to speak. 

“...Keep going,” 

Stu doesn’t waste time. 

Somehow he clutches Billy closer, rolls him over and starts ramming into him. He’s got him caged in with his legs, hands pinning him down as their hips meet again and again, punching into him, bruising in the best way. Impossibly he’s fucking him harder than before, snarling and vicious, using his body like he can’t stop himself and it’s so much that Billy’s vision blurs. He loses himself in the feeling of it, of Stu’s sweat on his skin, the smell of him and the way it feels to be stretched open, filled so completely. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to think past the sensation, so he just exists. For once he just exists.

He’s lost control of his own body again and his hips are rocking on their own as Stu shoves back into him, hits the deepest part of him over and over, relentless and ripping something pathetic from his lips. Stu makes a pathetic sound of his own then buries himself deep, twitching and grinding into him as he shoots into him, and just like that Billy tips over the edge a second time. 

It sort of shatters him. It rushes down on him all at once, lights up every nerve in his body and leaves him thoughtless, sore and warm.

“F-fuck…” Stu’s voice is warm in his ear, every inch of him is so warm that Billy can’t remember what it’s like to feel cold 

He hums out something like agreement because god, his body feels heavy and he’s still all cotton inside as Stu pulls out. He vaguely feels the cum dripping out of him and usually that’s annoying but he’s sort of drifting, hazy and happy and tranquilized so he only really notices when Stu starts wrapping around him. It’s exactly what he needs right now even though he could never say it, and that’s the great thing about Stu. Billy almost never needs to say that shit because he understands him well enough to know. 

“Fuck…” He hears himself slur. No one else in the world just knows him the way Stu does. “I love you-” 

And that’s the moment Billy’s post-nut high dies completely. 

It’s like the color grading of his movie changes, and everything feels cold, and wrong, like the soundtrack cut out and it’s way too quiet. Because I’m a fucking idiot . Because I meant what I said and I’m still leaving. Because it’s cruel, and for just this one last time he doesn’t want to be cruel. 

“Hmm? Wh-” Stu yawns. He sounds drowsy, maybe suspiciously so. “What? What’d you say?” Even if Stu heard it he’s giving him an out and he needs to take it. He can’t have that conversation right now. Fuck, right now he’s just trying not to puke. 

Billy says something to try and brush it off and Stu says something to try and lighten the mood but there’s no way he can muster up laughter or even a smile. He can’t leave either though, not right now when Stu’s awake. He knows he needs to eventually, and he will but he’s just… not ready yet. There’s no way back to the way it was before he said that though. He’d been getting by just telling himself not to think about it but now he’s gone and said something that’s going to make everything worse when he leaves and there’s no way to ignore that. 

It’s now that he realizes he never really planned his actual exit, which isn’t like him at all. He didn’t know how to write this scene, but more than that he didn’t want to so he just tucked it away and told himself he’d deal with it when he got to it. He plans everything, especially things like this, things that could be cinematic. This doesn’t feel cinematic though. 

That was a mistake. 

If he leaves now he doesn’t get to fall asleep here and that thought makes his eyes sting, which makes him feel so fucking small and pathetic that he wants to crawl out of his skin. But he wants it, so fucking bad, knows he’ll hate himself if he doesn’t. Billy’s struggled to sleep for as long as he can remember but he almost never sleeps badly next to Stu. 

So he can’t go back but he’s going to take what he can get. 

He asks Stu to put something on, and of course he reaches for Halloween, of course he does. That’s why he gave it to him, afterall. The Shape Stalks is their theme, and the thought of hearing it right now makes him sick. He doesn’t manage to hide the panic in his voice when he says he doesn’t want to watch it, that’s obvious from the way Stu looks at him. It’s even more obvious from the way his voice quivers when Stu tries to brush it off, when he tries to make everything ok like he always does, even when Billy is actively making it worse.

Fuck. 

Stu puts on My Bloody Valentine in the end. He goes to clean himself out in the bathroom as the opening credits roll, keeping his eyes down the whole time because he can’t stomach the thought of looking himself in the eye. 

Even when he gets back he can barely pay attention to the movie. He’s wrapped up in Stu again, trying so hard to focus on the way it feels but the thought of what he has to do keeps intruding. Needless to say he can’t relax. He nearly jumps when Stu presses his hand to the scar he gave him and the warmth of it has him feeling like he might choke, or disintegrate, or just fucking die so he closes his eyes and he pretends to be asleep. He doesn’t want to move Stu’s hand, he really doesn’t. That scar aches almost all the time but right now with his palm against it those nerves are quiet. 

Fuck.

Somehow he makes it to the end of the movie feigning sleep, and he’s worn enough that he’s almost drifting a little when Stu gets up. His first and most irrational thought is that he’s leaving, which is nothing if not hypocritical, but he’s just climbing out the window to smoke a joint. For a second Billy thinks he should get up right now and sneak out the front door while Stu’s not looking but he can’t. He can’t do that. 

So Stu comes back smelling like weed, and when he pulls him close again his skin is chilled from the air outside. Billy feels him pull in a shaking breath, nose pressed to the nape of his neck and inhaling deep like he’s trying to breathe him in. Right now he wishes he could be inhaled but he can’t, so he just focuses on Stu’s breathing and he breathes in time with him. 

It sort of works- sort of. It’s like a trance he puts himself in, filling his mind with the simple rhythm of in and out and the feeling of Stu’s skin, and at some point he thinks he must have actually fallen asleep because time has passed way too fast. 

The sun is already coming up, and Billy’s one night is over. 

It’s way too early but now that he’s awake he can’t choke down the tar rising up his throat anymore. His skin burns everywhere Stu’s touching him, and that’s it, that’s all he can take. He knows without question that it’s over now, there’s no clearing his stupid mind or calming himself down anymore. This is the end, so he needs to fucking end it. 

He pulls out of Stu’s arms and he gets to his feet.

The cold air is harsh on his bare skin now that he’s not under Stu’s blankets and he shivers, tensing painfully and rushing to pull his clothes on.

“Huh?” Stu’s voice is warm and rough with sleep and somehow it makes Billy feel colder.

“Fuck,” Fuck. He knows he would have been a coward for it but he was going to try to sneak out. He would have left Stu a fucking note or a voicemail to tell him it was over and he would have been gone. It would have been a clean break. 

But of course it’s going to end up messy.

“S’goin on man?” Stu’s voice is a little high, not quite steady. “You don’t gotta sneak out or anything,” Fuck he sounds like he’s pleading and it tugs at Billy’s ribs. “Les ain’t gonna come up here or anything.” End it. Just end it before he changes your mind.

“We’re done, I’m leaving.” Billy tugs his shirt over his head to hide his face after he says it.

“H-ha,” Strained, nervous laughter. Fuck, come on, get out of here- “Way to make me feel like a cheap whore, man-” He can’t look at Stu, he’s just stumbling over himself trying to get his stupid fucking socks on. “When you gonna be back?” Fuck, don’t sound like that you asshole, come on-

Cause here’s the thing; the longer he stays here the less likely he’ll be to leave.

“Stu,” He says, and he knows he needs to be clear so he forces himself to look at the man he’s about to crush. “This is over. I’m not coming back.” 

“What do you mean by that?” Stu’s stopped moving completely, eyes wide, and he can’t keep himself from looking away. “Billy, what do you mean by that?”

“I mean what I said. I’m going to LA and I’m not coming back. This thing is over. We finished the movie so it’s over. I don’t need you anymore, it’s not complicated.” And all of that is true right? The movie is over, and he doesn’t need him. 

“Are you serious right now?” The way Stu’s looking at him, he might as well burst into flame and he was expecting tears but that’s not what this is, no, this is real anger. And fuck, usually he would be enjoying that, he would be eating it up but right now it wraps around him like a straight jacket. “What about the sequel?” 

“I’m re-casting your role.” He lies and it tastes awful. 

“I don’t believe you.” Stu rolls his eyes. He rolls his fucking eyes.

“What?” He says it like he actually didn’t hear it because he must have misheard. Right? There’s no way.

“I. Don’t. Fucking. Believe you Billy!” And now Stu’s saying it again, meaner, now Stu’s in his face, scarred nose wrinkled as his mouth pulls into a nasty grimace. “What the fuck was last night, huh?”

And shit, Billy feels his mask slip, feels himself cringe because Stu sounds ruthless and sure. He sounds like he knows he’s right, like he knows he’s being fed bullshit and the worst thing is that he is . He fucking is, he’s completely right. And that’s why you need to do this.

“Last night was a consolation prize,” Billy raises his eyebrows, shrugs, does everything to project I don’t care . “You should be grateful that you got one-” His voice is thin when he forces it out and Stu cuts through it easily.

“Yeah why’d you do all that?” It’s a question but it sounds like an accusation. “You don’t do consolation, Billy you never have, so why the fuck would you do all that huh? The presents? ”

“The presents .” Billy mimics him, fixing a sneer over his face, even as his stomach turns. Lie. Lie and do it better.  “I was giving you what you wanted, Stu. Just like I used to with Sid.” He’s putting fucking everything into the performance but Stu’s angry dog grin doesn’t even falter.

“Nuh uh,” He’s shaking his head, teeth bared as he moves forward, and fuck the height difference is only a few inches but right now he’s towering “I saw you with Sid,” Stu’s fucking snickering, bitter and caustic as he backs him into the wall, and why the fuck are you letting him? Why the fuck are you letting him do this, get your shit together you little bitch- “You’re not that good at acting Billy. Did you even get off with her or did you have to fake it?” The taunt lances through him, fills his veins with gasoline and he explodes.

“Shut the fuck up!” He’s swinging before he thinks about it but his fist doesn’t go far because Stu grabs his wrist, slams it back against the wall over his head like it’s fucking nothing. 

“You don’t hit me unless I let you.” Stu growls, and fuck, fuck, his heart is racing and he might be kind of getting hard, which is not necessary or convenient right now. Stu’s anger has never been something that repelled him, but it’s the worst reaction he could possibly have in this moment. “Remember that.” His voice is low, heavy, soaking through Billy’s skin to seep into the bone as he lets go of his wrist. He doesn’t step back though, and Billy nearly shivers. 

Come on, spit it back, set another fire-

“Oh wow, mutt ” He drags up a beat of sarcastic laughter for punctuation and Stu’s eye brows shoot up like a dare. “Did your balls finally drop? That why you’re trying to stand up for yourself all of a sudden?” He wants the pet name to hit like a gut punch, but it just ends up adding fuel to the fire because Stu’s one pupil dilates and he leans in close when he should be recoiling. 

“ Everything I did for you, everything I let you do to me? That only happened because I wanted it to.” Stu’s grin drops away as he says it and his tone makes it clear he means it. 

It pierces so much deeper than his laughter, and for a split second Stu looks like he’s pleading. 

“Why would I care? I dont give a fuck about you and I haven’t in years, it’s not likely I’ll start now-” His throat is so tight it almost sounds like he’s choking, and Stu’s expression goes hard again in a second.

“That’s bullshit, fucking bullshit , you always do this!” Stu’s fist slams into the wall next to his head and he can’t stop himself from flinching. “You break some stupid rule you made up and then you freak out about it like it’s my fault. What the fuck did I do this time? Huh?”

You break some stupid rule you made up and then you freak out about it like it’s my fault. 

He feels like a worm, suddenly burning alive in the sun because someone picked up the rock he’d been hiding under and threw it away. And he is a worm. He’s a fucking worm and Stu can finally see how weak he really is. Maybe the smart thing would be to lean into it, let Stu see the rot so he doesn’t even want him anymore. 

But Billy’s a pathetic faggot so he’s not going to do that. Old habits die hard, apparently.

“You stupid fuck, the brain damage really did a number on you-” He hates the way those words taste on his tongue, and he can’t even look at Stu when he says it.  “You sound completely delusional right now-“

“I’m not!” Stu barks this out like a threat as his fist hits the wall again, and to his own shame Billy jumps a second time. “I’m not delusional.” He repeats, lower, hoarse, and staring straight at him even though he can’t make himself look back. “I know what I heard in the hospital.” It’s not hard to guess what Stu heard, and Billy wants nothing more than to bash his own head against the wall.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His jaw is locked up so tight it’s hard to push the words out, but if he relaxes it at all he’s worried he might vomit.

“Really? Cause you said it again last night.” Stu’s laughing again but he’s barking at the same time, and to his own shame it puts heat between his legs. What the fuck is wrong with me? “You said you love me, Billy.” The accusation plunges into him like a shot of adrenaline and all that guilty dread boils over into something like panic. 

“God, Stu you’re tragic!” His voice almost breaks, like he can’t get enough air in but he pushes the rest out anyways. ”It’s not on me if you tricked yourself into thinking I cared that much,” Keep going, “you don’t even know who you are without me do you?” Against all odds he’s hoping that one will land, that Stu will crack and let him leave with a shred of dignity. 

But Stu doesn’t bite back right away. He doesn’t blink either, he just breathes through his nose and stares for a second that lasts a million years. Billy feels like he’s waiting for an animal to attack. He barely breathes until Stu closes his eyes and sighs. 

“Fuck, Billy.” He sounds… Disappointed. He sounds so disappointed and Billy wants to stop existing. “You’re just… does this make you feel better? Like, honestly. Does it make you feel better when you push me away like this?”

“I’m not pushing you away, you were never close!” Billy is choking the words out at this point and he needs to get the fuck out of here before he breaks but he’s still pinned between Stu and the wall. You could push him away. He’s not going to. His mouth is still open but he’s got nothing left to say and it's just this gnawing silence until Stu finally leans away from him. 

“Ok.” He sighs out the word, takes a step back and Billy feels cold where their bodies aren’t touching anymore. He’s balling his fists, holding himself tense to keep from reaching out. “Ok,” Stu repeats, harder around the edges, sharper, louder. “-fine. Get the fuck out then,” Stu’s grinning again, and fuck, it hurts more than getting shot, more than getting stabbed. “I’ll see you in a few months when you can’t hold out anymore.” 

“What did you just say to me??” The gasoline inside him turns to battery acid, to nuclear waste and he’s got the pocket knife out against his better judgment. He’s advancing in an instant, but Stu doesn’t budge even when he puts the edge to his throat.

“Kill me, fuck me, or leave me.” Stu shrugs, face flat as he stares him down. Like he doesn’t care. Like he isn’t even a little bit threatened, because he’s not. “Just get on with it, man. I’m bored.”

“So am I,” Billy’s hissing. Itt’s not true though, it’s really not fucking true but it works because Stu’s expression shutters and he turns away. 

He doesn’t even fucking respond but it’s fine because Billy shouldn’t need a response, and either way he’s already gone. He’s already in the hallway, down the stairs and out the front door. He doesn’t bother to properly tie his boots and he’s still pulling his jacket on as he walks down the lawn to pull his bike from the bushes where he’d stashed it the night before. 

Fuck.

He straddles his bike but his feet feel heavy and clumsy, his hands are filled with static, and his vision is starting to blur so he only gets a few wobbly pedals in before he has to get off and start walking. 

Fuck.

It’s been a while since he got like this. At least after Stu woke up he felt enough to want to hit himself but now he’s just a fucking husk. The shame of it all would burn if he could feel it right now, but he can’t. Right now he just feels this cold weight, dragging him down. His world narrows so all he sees is his feet, and all he thinks about is moving them in the right direction until he makes it home.

His brain is full of smoke and he nearly walks right in the front door, but he catches himself at the last second and goes around the back to fall in through his bedroom window. He crawls into bed with his clothes on and he doesn’t move until his mom comes to check on him hours later. 

He tells her to leave him alone. She puts a PB&J on his nightstand and closes the door behind her.

He’s not sure when he falls asleep and he’s not really sure when he wakes up either, but the moment he comes to and remembers where he is and what he did he just wants to slam his head against the wall until he passes out again. He doesn’t, but that’s mostly because his mom would hear and come check on him. Instead he punches a few new bruises into his thighs and chews the inside of his mouth until it bleeds.

In Billy’s opinion they can’t leave Woodsboro soon enough. 

Chapter Text

For maybe the first time in his life Stu wants to strangle Billy Loomis to death, and not in a horny way. 

Ok, not actually, of course not. Billy can pretend to break up with him but he should know better. Stu’s not giving up. Billy’s full of shit and he’s gonna change his mind. But right this second? Stu wants to stick a fist through his ribs so he can punch him directly in the lungs. 

He can hear him running down the stairs, running for the front door. Stu’s breath is coming faster, thoughts racing, cutting each other off, and then his hands are on his movie shelf and he’s pulling it all to the ground. He’s pulling clothes on and slamming his bedroom door against the wall as he throws it open, then he’s rushing for the stairs. 

He doesn’t even know what the hell he’s doing but he feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t do something. And fuck, he shouldn’t go after him, right? That would be a really bad idea but also fuck! He’s got that burning red haze rolling down over his vision as his feet hit the last step, but then all of a sudden Leslie’s in front of him. 

“Hey, was that Billy? What’s-” He barely processes what she’s saying, he just knows that he needs her to get the fuck out of his way. 

“Move,” He’s growling, and he’s trying to push past her only she grabs his arm

“Stu, stop-” He’s trying to pull out of her grip but she’s really holding on. “What happened? I heard yelling-”

“Let. Go.” Some part of him realizes he doesn’t sound like himself, but that part isn’t in the driver’s seat right now. He yanks harder and she throws her hands up. 

“Stop!” She’s on his heels as he storms toward the front door. “Please Stu, talk to me,” She looks really worried, he can see that even through the haze. He’ll feel guilty about that later, but he doesn’t right now. “Did Billy do something?” God fucking damn it. “Stu, please,”

“Fuck off!” He barks, and it’s good she bought him Vans for Christmas cause he thinks he’d start throwing things if he had to try and tie his shoes now. 

“Stu!” Leslie’s calling after him but he’s already letting the front door close behind him and he’s making a beeline for the sidewalk.

He doesn’t see Billy anywhere.

On the one hand that’s probably a good thing with the way he’s feeling, even now he knows he can’t follow him home, he’d only end up making the kind of scene Billy might actually kill him for, but if he doesn’t mess something up he’s going to become a threat to the general public. So he does the only thing his napalm-filled brain can drum up; he takes a hammer from the shed and he bikes to the old house.

The construction has come a long way since October but it’s still just wood beams, tarps, and a dug-out foundation, but he sets them back at least a few weeks wailing on anything he thinks might be breakable. A lot of it is. Like, a fucking lot, and he gets clipped by more than a few splintered planks as he brings the shit down around him but it’s fine, he can spare some skin and blood. If anything he needs a little bloodletting because he feels like he’s too full of it, itching to burst. It’s just his arms burning, lungs heaving and the sound of his own raw voice under the crack of snapping wood. It’s the red filter, the sting of fresh cuts on his hands, and the taste of his own blood when he pauses long enough to lick it away. 

It’s only then that he realizes how much it all aches. The tight pain between his ribs and the crushing weight of his entire body, and besides all that he’s still fucking furious.  He drops the hammer. His fingers just kind of let go and he starts swinging with fists, force dulled by the exhausted muscles in his arms but no less painful when his knuckles collide with a hard surface. He does that until he can’t anymore, until his hands are basically just useless chunks of flesh and bone on the ends of his useless arms, and that’s when his knees start to give out.

He takes a few clumsy steps and then his ass hits the ground on the lawn. And of course the ground is cold and wet but how is he supposed to care right now? 

Billy fucking left again. 

“FUCK!” His voice is so loud it hurts his throat, his ears, scares the stupid birds out of the trees, but when it cuts out again it’s just silence.

What if I’m wrong? What if he’s really not coming back? It starts worming into his brain the moment he considers it. What if he’s not coming back? What if it’s over? Fuck, it’s hard to breathe, he’s not getting enough air in and his ribs are too tight, his throat burns, his head spins, and his heart races, and what if he’s not coming back?

He’s not even crying, it’s like he’s dried out so he just feels awful, panicked and shaky, like he’s having a heart attack. And maybe he should just lay down and die here, he kind of really wishes he could. They’d find his body lifeless but intact, no blood, no gore. A completely passionless death, and Billy would know that he hadn’t died the right way. 

Billy’d have to look at his lifeless, woundless corpse and realize he never took the chance when he had it, and-

Stu nearly screams when something warm and fuzzy nudges up against his hand. 

“Mrrr- ah?” His heart jumps and he’s thinking no way, there’s no way it’s her, but then he opens his eye and suddenly he’s not too dry to cry anymore. 

“Jonesy?” His voice cracks on her name as she pushes her little head into his palm, and then she’s climbing into his lap like she hasn't been dodging him for months. “Jonesy girl, oh my god,” He’s running both hands down her damp, dirty coat, but he doesn’t care about that at all because she’s purring so hard her whole body vibrates and he’s never been more grateful for anything in his life. 

“Ma-aaow.” She says, and then she starts pressing her paws into the tops of his thighs. She’s really digging her claws in as she kneads and it hurts pretty bad if he’s being honest, she might actually be drawing blood but he’s not going to do anything that could interrupt her.

Besides that everything hurts and everyone he loves makes him bleed a little, it’s hardly a deal-breaker.

“You little bitch,” His laughter is weak and wet as he scratches behind her ears and down the back of her neck. She just goes on with her biscuit making like it’s business as usual. “Don’t see you for months n’you show up today? Typical.” Jonesy pauses and side eyes him, flicking her tail once. It feels like she’s rolling her eyes at him and he finds himself sighing, wiping his face with his sleeve. “You’re just like him, y’know that?”

“Mah.” Jonsey dismisses him, redoubling her efforts to tenderize his legs. Typical.

“You show up when you want something, you make me love you and then you run away right when it’s getting good.” He scritches his nails down her back and she arches up into it. “Should just fuckin kidnap you. Both of you.” 

It’s a nice thought. It’s a hot thought when its about Billy. He would look incredible tied up in the trunk of his car, all pissed off and pretty, but it wouldn’t get Stu what he actually wants. You don’t get to fall asleep next to Billy Loomis after you’ve broken his trust. Honestly, if he ever did fuck him over for real he’s pretty sure he would disembowel him. Billy’s a sensitive guy, Stu counts himself lucky to have gotten as close as he has. 

I’m not pushing you away, you were never close!

But god, the dude’s an asshole sometimes. 

He’s not exactly surprised, on some level he knew Billy would end up trying to leave him again eventually. He just wasn’t expecting it to happen so goddamn fast. But again Billy’s never been a open as he was last night. God, last night…

Billy gave him gifts. Really thoughtful ones too, like sweet, romantic shit. And he looked embarrassed as hell doing it, which means it was real. If he was lying he’d be way smoother but the dude was blushing. And then there was all the scar touching, and the incredible sex, and he knew something was off after Billy said he loved him because that was real too. Because he looked like he was going to vomit after he said it.
 
He could have left right then too but he didn’t, he looked like he was going to cry and then he let Stu spoon him all night. And the fucking ‘breakup’? The absolute worst performance Billy’s put on in a long time, but fuck if it didn’t feel good to talk back like that. Didn’t feel so good to see how messed up his boy was though. And he was really messed up. 

In the end he’s not sure how long he sits beside the corpse of his old house, just petting Jonesy as she purrs and rips up his jeans. He sort of goes on autopilot until an engine revs nearby and Jonesy’s up and running before he has time to catch her.

“Fuck-” He’s on his feet scrambling after her, but she’s already at the treeline and his heart is sinking into his stomach again. “Jonesy, no!” He shouts like she comes when she’s called, which she doesn’t, and either way he’s already lost sight of her in the woods. “C’mon…” 

It’s just disappointing. It’s not surprising, and he’s too tired to feel anything more.

The car that startled Jonesy is Leslie’s, because of course it is. He should have known she would come after him, and right now he desperately misses the days when he basically lived alone. At least back then no one was around to see him freak out.

Leslie doesn’t say anything about the fact that he wrecked the new construction but he sees her eyeing it and it obviously doesn’t make her any less worried. He tells her she scared Jonesy off and she apologizes, all careful and gentle, like she’s handling a bomb. It pisses him off and he sort of feels bad about that, but it is what it is. 

She drives him home, tries to get him to talk again when they get there but he goes straight to his room. Maybe he could sneak out and go to Billy’s, try and show him how stupid he’s being. When he considers it though, he realizes he really doesn’t wanna see his face at the moment. That won’t last forever, he’ll probably regret not taking the opportunity tomorrow morning but it doesn’t matter. He’s not crawling back to him. Not yet at least. 

So instead of hunting Billy down and kicking his ass he just smokes the rest of his weed and eats a bunch of ice cream. Then he eats a bunch of chips, then he puts the chips in the ice cream and that’s pretty good but then he’s thinking about milkshakes and fries, double dates in diners with girls who are dead now. And then he’s thinking about Sidney Prescott with her stupid goddamn cheddar cheese on apple pie, and he’s wishing he could kill her all over again. 

That’s pretty much how he spends the next couple of days. Tammy comes by a few times, tries to get him to hang out but he’s not in the mood. She’ll see straight through him anyways and he doesn’t need that right now. 

At a certain point he needs to do something other than watch movies and eat though, so in the end he starts drawing again. He used to do that a lot when he was a kid, seeing the drawing he’d taped onto Billy’s stolen copy of Halloween reminded him. For a while he’d even wanted to write comic books like Tales from the Crypt, but he just sort of got distracted by other stuff. Stuff like hunting. And Billy. 

He’s a little shaky on it for sure, his hands feel clumsy and what comes out the end of his pencil isn't exactly what he’s aiming for but it still feels hella good to do. 

He starts with random gore but eventually he realizes he’s drawing his own face without the stitches, with the ripped open flaps of skin pulled back and his left eye hanging out, dripping milky fluid. Then he’s drawing someone on an autopsy table, all opened up like a frame for their own organs, and when he’s done he realizes it’s Billy. He draws someone skewered like a living butterfly pinned to a board and that’s Billy too. Billy hanging, Billy bleeding, Billy’s insides on the outside and spread out all around him.

Again, it’s not like he actually wants Billy dead, but in this moment he wants to rip him open as much as he wants to crawl inside him. He looks at his drawings and he gets hard and he wants to scream and he misses him so fucking much. Maybe more than he did before he came back. The missing is all he’s left with when the rest of it fades, when he’s too tired and high for anger or arousal. 

So obviously it’s only a few days before he’s biking back to Billy’s house. There’s no way he’s still there, he wouldn’t stick around after doing what he did that morning. But at least his bed will probably smell like him again, right? Stu’s looking forward to that. 

When he gets there it looks like Billy maybe took a couple things with him but most of it is still here, and the fact that he hasn’t fully moved out is comforting. At first he’s just going to lay in his bed, pop one of Billy’s sad boy CDs in his walkman and zone out for a bit, breathing him in, but after a while he gets restless. 

Restlessness leads to curiosity though, and it wouldn’t be the worst thing to look around a little, right? Would Billy like it? Of course not, but Billy isn’t here to stop him so he starts with the nightstand. 

On first glance it’s just a jumble of the kind of shit you’d expect from anyone; a handful of small change, a bunch of movie ticket stubs and a couple of pens, but he only has to dig down a little deeper to find a packet of zip ties, and damn, the memories. He really hopes Billy will do that to him again someday. 

He better. 

He moves on to Billy’s desk drawers and its a little surprising to find out that all of them are stuffed to the brim with journals. They aren't the kind you write about your day in, they’re more like the kind you take notes in for school only Billy’s notes are movie reviews. There are thousands of them, going back years and documenting probably every movie Billy’s ever seen. They’re great too but that’s no surprise, Billy’s always been good at talking about movies.

Stu had definitely seen him writing in these when they were younger, he remembers him pulling one out of his backpack the moment they left the theatre but he’d never let Stu actually read them. He didn’t know he kept writing in them, but it makes him happy that he did. 

He pages through a few of them laying on the floor, can basically hear Billy’s voice as he reads his words and it feels like curling up under a blanket. When he’s done he puts them all back carefully because they’re precious treasures. 

After that he moves to the closet, and hilariously this turns out to be where Billy keeps his porn.

Specifically it’s in a shoebox under a pile of folded sweaters. It’s not like there’s a crazy amount of it, his collection is a fraction of the size of Stu’s. It’s all gay shit though- blonde dudes with big dicks, dudes tied up with tape over their mouths, bent over and spread open or held down. That makes Stu really fucking happy, like how could it not? So he’s already on cloud nine when he finds out what’s under the porno mags. 

He’s not sure what he was expecting but it’s not this. 

The first hint of it is in the back of a magazine called ‘bound and gagged’, just a dried black flower pressed between the pages. It’s mangled, almost beyond recognition until he remembers the dahlia he’d tried to give Billy like, two years ago? The one he stepped on and crushed into the dirt. It’s right here in this shoe box flattened against some dude's hard dick and now there’s a deep ache settling into Stu’s chest. 

The ache doesn’t ease after he sets the flower aside either, because the second thing he pulls out of the shoebox is a cassette tape with his own handwriting on it: Billy’s Killer Mix. He remembers making this, half of it he burned off the Halloween soundtrack and the rest was mostly songs from Hitchcock movies, all shit he knew Billy liked. They were maybe 14 when he gave it to him and Billy straight up laughed at it, told him to stop acting like a homo. 

The dude never could take his own advice. 

Stu could have sworn Billy had thrown the tape in the trash back then, just like he thought he’d thrown away the flower but here it is. Billy kept it, all these years. He swallows hard, sets the tape aside, and then he’s looking at his own face.

It’s the first in a little stack of Polaroids, an older one from when he’d had his hair down to his shoulders. Looking back he thinks he mostly grew it out because Billy was into Nirvana, but he’d had himself convinced otherwise at the time. In the picture he’s half smiling, half mouth-open surprised and looking at the camera with wide eyes. His cheeks are hot pink from the sun and he’s covered in dirt.

It’s coming back to him now, he’s pretty sure it was late summer. He just remembers that he was dreading going back to school, feeling kinda like shit watching TV until Billy showed up with two cans of beer he stole from his dad. Billy didn’t steal much but when he did it was revenge, so Stu figured they must have got in a fight. They got in fights a lot, more and more as Billy got older but Stu didn’t mind being there after, he was good at it. He could distract him or let him take a little anger out, whatever would get his mind off it. It made him feel useful. Needed.

That day Billy hadn’t been fuming angry like he was sometimes though; if anything it seemed like he was trying to act like everything was ok. Stu wasn’t going to call him out on it so they’d ended up wandering out in the woods behind his house, drinking beer and talking about nothing. It was maybe the second time either of them ever drank booze and back then it still felt exciting, grown up and secret. 

He’d brought the Polaroid along too, he had a fresh pack of film and he couldn’t stop snapping shots of Billy. At the time he didn’t really know why he kept doing it, he only knew that it pissed Billy off in just the right way, made him go kinda red or try to grab the camera. Stu liked that, of course he did. It's pretty obvious now, a pissed off Billy is a Billy that might touch him, let him get a little bit closer. 

So that day Stu just kept taking pictures, acting like a dickhead even though he could tell it was actually, really annoying him. It got him what he wanted though, because when he hit his limit Billy tackled him. 

He was worried about the camera for two seconds before it hit the ground, but then he was rolling around in the dirt with his best friend and that was all that mattered. At some point he’d let Billy win because he wanted to see him smirk, but then Billy was scrambling away to snatch up the camera, snapping pictures and taunting him as he got to his feet. 

It’s not even the only picture of him in the shoebox, there’s like three more that Billy must have swiped. One of them dressed up to go trick or treating, maybe ten years old, then a shot of them older and clearly wasted at some house party, and one Nancy took at their junior high graduation-

He’s starting to notice a theme, and his left eye stings just as much as his right even though it’s made of glass. 

The box is almost empty now but there’s still a few photos left, they’re all turned face down and it’s obvious why when he flips the first one. It’s the boar they butchered out in Mendocino last summer, and fuck if he doesn’t get a half chub just thinking about that day. It’s not the pig intestines getting him up obviously, it’s the memory of rutting on Billy’s boot, revolver weighing heavy on his tongue, Billy looking down at him like he’s the best movie he’s ever seen... shit. He wants to find out what else is in the box more than he wants to get off though, so he takes a second to close his eyes, pulls in a deep breath, and adjusts his dick in his pants. 

Moving on.  

The next picture he flips over is a portrait of Maureen Prescott, her corpse to be more specific. She’s propped up against the headboard of her bed, drenched in her own blood, and holy fuck he hasn’t seen these since Billy took them from him like, a year ago? The next two shots are close-ups on her wounds, on the gash running across her throat and the vacant expression on her frozen face. 

Gore like this does a lot of different things to him but it doesn’t usually make him feel this kind of soft nostalgia. They had their first kiss that night though, and now his chest is aching again. Under Maureen he finds Casey and Steve but he can barely even see them through the salt water starting to well up in his good eye.

Everything in this box is from him. Billy kept everything.

It’s as relieving as it is infuriating. Like, what the hell does the asshole think this is if it’s not love? Billy might own his ass but he owns Billy’s ass too. He was trying to push him away the night they fucked for the first time, the night Billy fucking branded him- as if that couldn’t be more clear. And Stu only had to tell the truth to flip that switch.

You wanna kill me? Kill me. Love you so fuckin’ much- 

Billy doesn’t stand a chance. 

He feels a lot better on the way home. Crazy what a box full of gay-ass mementos will do for a dude’s mental state. It’s not like he doesn’t feel a twinge stepping back into his room, seeing the new camera still in it’s box, sitting on top of their Halloween tape. For a second it just makes him feel heavy and he wonders if he should hide it- only then he gets an idea.

That’s how he ends up biking over to Billy’s with a knife in his pocket and the new camera in his backpack. He doesn’t know when Billy’s coming back, but he has to at some point and Stu’s going to leave him a homecoming gift.

Homecuming.

Ha.

He doesn’t waste time when he gets there, he goes straight for the bed, pulling off his shirt and shoving down his pants as he lays back on Billy’s white sheets. He hasn’t touched himself yet but his dick is already twitching, arcing up against his stomach.

He reaches for his knife and he imagines Billy opening the door, finding him here in his bed, pants down with a knife in his hand. He flicks the knife open, using the fingers of his free hand to frame a section of his upper thigh, and he imagines Billy taking the knife, sneering at him, and dragging it over that skin.

Stu makes his first cut.

It’s not the deepest but it bites so damn good he has to give himself a few strokes. Fuck, he’s really, really missed this. He misses the way Billy looks when he does it, the way he’s entirely focused, hungry, and just a little out of control. He imagines Billy grinning at him and driving that knife down through his thigh. It shreds through layers of muscle, scraping against his femur and chipping the bone.

Stu makes his second cut, deeper than the first.

The first is still just beading up but the second is dripping right away, blood rolling down the inside of his thigh. He wipes it away with his fingers, hips bucking as the salt of his skin stings those cuts, and then he strokes himself with it, painting his cock with it. Behind his eyelids he sees Billy pull the knife out, sees himself gushing and feels Billy push his fingers into that new hole instead.

It would burn so bad, he knows it would, but he'd still be begging him to fuck it.

Fuck.

So now he’s thinking about Billy’s fingers making room inside that wound, slicking his cock red guiding it into place. Billy pushing his dick in between the muscles, the wet sound of it, the blood that spills as he pulls out. Billy fucking into his guts instead, into his chest, the searing pain and the struggle for breath as he smears his fingers through the blood on his thigh, onto his stomach, onto his dick. He starts jacking himself faster.

Against the backs of his eye lids he sees Billy's hands red, Billy’s face red, Billy drenched in him as he makes his third cut, and fuck, he’s not going to last much longer. He sees Billy thrusting into him hard, imagines the mind-shattering pain of it and fucks his fist like he’s mad at it. He sees Billy reaching into him, finding his heart and pushing his cock into it. He would be bleeding out, delirious, vision going black as Billy leans in close.

Love you, mutt.

That’s not what Stu’s expecting him to say, it’s his own fantasy but Billy’s voice speaks into his brain like it’s coming from outside of him and that's all it takes to have him shooting ropes onto his stomach. His toes curl as his dick jerks against his palm, and imaginary Billy fades under the rush of sensation.

He gives himself a second in the afterglow, then he wipes his cummy, bloody hands off on Billy’s sheets and grabs his camera. He nails it on the first shot, he can tell as he shakes it out and the picture starts to materialize.

Billy’s gonna cum in his stupid sexy pants.

He doesn’t stick around after, he just wipes his bloody thigh on the sheets and pulls his jeans back on with it still bleeding sluggishly. He tucks the photo under Billy’s pillow then pulls the blankets back into place and heads home.

The next couple days pass unremarkably, and then before he knows it it’s New Year’s eve. He sort of wasn’t planning on doing anything, only then Tammy shows up to drag him to her friend Bonnie’s party and he lets her. The idea of hanging out alone and doing nothing on the last night of the year makes him want to blow his brain out and anything is probably better than that.

It’s… fucking weird when he gets there, though. Being around everyone again. It feels sort of wrong, like he’s back in time before everything changed. So many of these people were there that night, and if the stupid house hadn’t burnt down they’d all be back there now. It would be Stu’s party instead of Bonnie’s. Instead he’s walking into someone else's house and everyone is swarming him. 

He hasn’t seen any of them since the shit went down, and he was popular before but this is different. It’s like all of them need to say some shit to him about how brave he is or how good it is to see him. Half of them need to tell him they were there that night and they ‘had a bad feeling about it’, which he thinks is pretty damn funny. None of them have a single god damn clue. A lot of people tell him they’re sorry about Tatum too, that one feels the weirdest. He kind of wants to deck most of them. He kind of wants to set this house on fire too.

It’s ok though, he’s always been good at this part and it’s not all that hard to fall back into the swing of it. Make a rude joke, act like an idiot, get them all laughing. It’s not hard to get wasted either, and things are kind of fun for a while once he gets himself tipsy. Tammy disappears at some point but he’s alright, he’s playing Kings Cup, he’s popping out his glass eye for a party trick and he’s honestly having a pretty good time. Or at least he is until five minutes to midnight. That’s when he remembers that Billy isn’t here, he doesn’t get to kiss him after midnight and he didn’t get to kiss him earlier in the night and he’s not going to kiss him tomorrow. 

By this point Carrie Wilkes is basically glued to his side and he’s pretty sure she’s angling to lock lips when the ball drops. She’s obviously flirting, asking him if he’s with Tammy and looking excited when he says he’s not. She’s pretty hot, he’s not gonna lie, and If he wasn’t like, deeply in love and also pretty heartbroken he’d probably be hooking up with her right now. It might even be a good idea, get with her a couple times and make sure Billy finds out, make him think he’s got something to compete with.

He really just doesn’t want to though. He stares at this fucking cheerleader and feels nothing, not so much as a twitch of the dick when he looks at her tits. So in the end he ditches her and heads outside before the countdown starts. 

It’s cold and he doesn’t have his jacket on him, but he’s got a joint tucked behind his ear so he pulls it out and lights it, shivering and alone as the new year starts. He wonders where Billy is right now. He knows they’d be together if he was here, he would make sure of it. They’re supposed to be together now, it’s not fucking fair that they aren’t. 

The night goes sour after that. 

When he goes back inside he decides to drink more, he definitely doesn’t need to but he also really doesn’t want to feel the way that he does right now. Now Carrie’s just annoying and wasted and Bruce Hansen keeps talking about what he would have done if he got attacked by a murderer, and Stu's thinking be careful what you wish for. He's also looking at Bonnie's TV and thinking maybe he should put his head through it, see what happens. He keeps drinking instead. 

Tammy reappears after his second shot, stealing what would have been his third and downing it herself. 

“Can we get outta here?” She asks. She looks kinda… upset. Also like, Stu’s drunk but wasn’t she wearing lipstick before? 

“Yeah, let’s bounce.” He slurs. 

They’re both pretty messed up at this point so the next five minutes is just wading through the mountain of coats and shoes in the entryway. At least the cold air outside is a little sobering though, only enough to get to his house but it’s ok because no one’s home so they’re free to be as sloppy as they like when they raid the kitchen. They end up on Stu’s bed, smoking a joint as the room spins around them. 

“Yo, so who’d you bang earlier?” His words are sluggish, but he feels a lot better now that it’s just the two of them and the curiosity is back.  

“Huh?” Tammy’s face is sort of hilarious, like really surprised and Stu’s giggling a little on his next question.

“Cause you had lipstick before,” He sucks in a lungful of smoke between his words, coughs a little on the exhale and lets the warmth of it wash over him before he finishes the thought. “…n’ then we got to the party and you disappeared for a while and…” He’s about to go on but now her face is starting to go pale and screw up in a way he doesn’t like, and- “Oh fuck are you gonna cry? What’s happening?”

“M’fine, m’just being stupid,” Tammy has her hands over her face now snuffling hard, and he’s half-panicked looking for the box of Kleenex he keeps by his bed, next to the lotion. He’s never seen her cry before? Since when does Tammy Beckett cry? 

“Dude, nah” He lurches up to look at her and the room tilts a little. “I mean, dunno what you’re talking about but you’re like, the smartest bitch I know,” Tammy snorts wetly, then sniffles a little more, grabbing the tissues as he shoves them at her.

“I’m just drunk, s’nothing…” She’s wiping at her face like she’s mad at it. 

“Tam c’mon, the fuck happened? Do I need to kill someone?” He shoves a little at one of her shoulders and she huffs, shakes her head behind her tissue. 

“No…” Tammy grumbles, balls up her wet tissue and drops her hands from her face, staring into her palms.  

 “K… girl you’re like, totally buggin,” Stu puts on his best Cher Horowitz, pretending to flip his hair over his shoulder and accidentally ashing his joint on his shirt. It’s alright though because Tammy is sort of laughing now. “What’s the hot goss?”

“Oh my god you’re such an idiot-” She’s fully laughing now, shoving him back and stealing the joint. She takes a long drag on it, but the smile falls from her face as she blows out, and the next breath she takes is shaky. “Y-you ever been like, really, really into someone who makes you feel like the chick from Fatal Attraction?” 

“Yeah.” He doesn’t need to think about it, the answer is natural and immediate. Billy does make him feel like a bunny boiler but it’s just part of his charm. 
 
“Fucking sucks.” Tammy huffs, rubbing at her eyes and smearing her makeup everywhere. “Sh-shouldn’t be surprised, s’not new. I d-dunno why I got my hopes up, I know what she’s like. She cares so fucking much about what everyone thinks-” She. I know what she’s like. He feels his mouth pop open- he honestly didn’t have that on his bingo card, but then again maybe it explains some stuff. “Oh, shit-” Tammy’s eyes have gone wide as she turns to face him, face tense. “Uuhh- I didn’t mean-” He’s honestly never seen her trip over herself like this before and it seems wrong, un-Tammy like. Now’s the time if he’s going to say it, but he’s never said it to anyone other than Billy so he kind of has to force it out.

“I suck cock sometimes-” He blurts and she makes a choking sound. “Like, dudes. I’m banging a dude.” Okay, that was also not really the way he meant for that to come out, but it does seem to shock Tammy out of her panic. She’s completely silent for a second, face still wet with tears as her expression cracks with a grin and a loud peel of laughter rips out of her

“Sh-shit, Macher me too-” She can barely get it out, “I suck cock sometimes,” She mocks him, wiping her face. “Holy shit, ” And suddenly everything feels a lot better. Looser. Like there’s even more air in the room than there was before Tammy had her slip up. 

“Ass is ass y’know? S’all good,” He’s giggling a little now too, it just feels kind of crazy to be talking about this. “But yo, for real girl I support your pussy eating. And if you ever want an audience-” Billy would kill him for saying that, but it has Tammy snorting and punching his leg. 

“You’re such a skeeze, oh my god,” She’s re-lighting the joint, passing it over and he’s feeling so warm and so light that he doesn’t think he could stop grinning if he tried. “Maybe I shoulda known, you came so fast when I stuck my pinky in your ass.”

“Hey,” He says it like he’s offended or something but he’s really not and she’s still just snickering. 

“Like really fast, man.” She repeats.

“What d'you want me to say?" He rolls his eye like he's annoyed but he's obviously not. "You should consider it a compliment.”

“Oh I do.” She laughs, raising her fist for a bump that feels like a toast. “To both,”

“To both.” He repeats. 

He’s really fucking glad Tammy picked him up that day back in November. 

So now it’s 1997 and Billy isn’t here but he’ll get him back. And in the meantime he’s not alone anymore. His parents come home on January 2nd and he tells them he’s going to start school again. It’s not that he loves the place but he should probably try to graduate right?

Also the announcement turns out to be a convenient distraction from the Godzilla moment he had at the old house. His dad finds out the day they get back and flies into a blind rage while his mom goes into victim mode, assuming for some reason that it was a hate crime, like someones blaming her for the murders because she decorated the house they happened in. It really doesn't make any sense, but it's kind of hilarious because Stu's responsible for both the massacre and the vandalism.

It's obvious Leslie thinks it's funny too, she keeps trying to shoot him disapproving looks when he starts to crack up but she's obviously swallowing her own laughter. In the end they're both flipping their shit over nothing, as usual. It's not going to cost his dad fuck all in the grand scheme of things, he's got the cash to spare and construction is already back up and running.

Tammy picks him up on the first day of class after winter break. He's half expecting to be given a mile-high stack of late assignments the moment he steps onto the premises, but the new principle basically tells him they’ll forgive everything he missed in the fall, 'given the circumstances'. There’s a brand new plaque outside her office commemorating Himbry and he can’t hide the grin it puts on his face when he sees it. Billy would have fucking loved that.

It’s weird being back after everything though. He sees them everywhere, all over the school, all posted up at the fountain for lunch. It’s a weird kind of nostalgia because Billy isn’t here so he’s gloating alone, and at least right now he does miss the Randy-brand banter. He has Tammy though, Tammy’s friends too, so he’s not exactly lonely or bored. He’s almost shocked how easily he slides back into something near normal. 

So overall? Things are alright. Things are getting better even, because he gets a call from a reporter at Top Story near the end of the month.

Introducing: Sunny Daye! He’s seen her on the news before, doing some sort of correspondent shit but apparently she’s Gale Weather’s 2.0, and with a name like that? Of course she is. She goes straight from introducing herself to this whole pitch about how difficult everything must be for him, and how apparently the only cure is to spill every detail so she can write a book. 

“Don’t you want someone to tell your story?” That’s what she says.

It’s not like, the worst idea. They put a lot of work into making that shit cinematic as hell and it would be a waste if someone didn’t document it properly. A book is a step toward a movie, and he definitely wants a movie. He and Billy hadn’t talked much about the aftermath of the massacre but now he’s thinking they really should have. Sunny tells him she wants to meet so they can go over a contract together, but he needs to know something else first.

“Did you talk to Billy?” It’s not like he’s going to sell their story without him. 

“I did, it’s important to get as many perspectives as-” I don’t care about that.

“Are you meeting with him too?” He cuts her off, his thoughts are starting to rush. 

“... I am.” Sunny sounds curious now. “Aren’t you two friends? I would have thought he'd tell you-”

“When’s that?” He ignores her prodding, the target is in sight now. “I’ll drive down and we can all meet together.” She sounds sort of amused as she gives him the date and address but he couldn’t care less, he’s got a plan coming together. This is an opportunity and he’s not going to waste it. 

The moment he hangs up with Sunny he’s calling Tammy to ask if she’d be able to drive him to LA on the weekend and she’s obviously down for it. Apparently she wants to get her belly button pierced and they don’t do that at the Claire’s in the Woodsboro shopping centre, so it works out pretty good for both of them. His parents will be gone again by the weekend too, so he doesn’t have to worry about asking them, and Leslie won’t stop him if he’s with Tammy. 

The moment he hangs up with her he gets hit with this rush of energy, like this heat prickling over his skin and leaving him half hard because he’s going to see Billy on Saturday. He’s going to see Billy and he’s going to do whatever he has to do to get him to break. The next two days pass quickly and he can barely focus on anything other than seeing him. He goes to school, he comes home, he fingers himself, then he watches movies and draws Billy cut in half.

And just like that Tammy’s picking him up after school on Friday. 

It’s a long drive but at least the company’s good so it’s not super boring or anything. It’s been a while since he’s been to LA but it hasn’t changed much. He’s always liked it here, it’s just the right amount of shitty. Also just like, so many serial killers.

It’s late when they roll up so they head straight to Tammy’s sister’s place. He’s never met her before and she’s a little cold at first but she warms right up when she realizes the two of them aren’t dating. Maybe he should take that as an insult but mostly he just thinks it’s funny. After that it’s super chill, they eat Chinese takeout and they pass out on the couch watching Scooby Doo re-runs.
 
The first thought he has when he wakes up on Saturday? I get to see Billy today. He can’t get the grin off his face and when Tammy asks about it he just says he’s excited to meet the hot news lady, but she doesn’t seem convinced.

They have a few hours before the meeting with Sunny, so he goes with Tammy to the piercing place her sister told her about. When they get there there’s a chick getting a tattoo that says ‘Todd’ in a little heart, and he’d laugh about how much she’s going to regret that shit when they break up, only he’s got a B carved into his chest that he could never regret. Maybe Todd is her Billy. Do they kill people too?

“Shit, I’m kinda nervous.” Tammy’s lying back on the piercer’s table-thingy, having her belly button thoroughly cleaned by a dude with pink hair. 

“It won’t be that bad, trust me.” Sometimes Stu forgets that other people don’t get a little horny when they think about a hot dude pushing needles through their skin.

“The fuck do you know?” Tammy snaps, eyes on the big needle that Pink Dude is picking up. “Do you have a belly button piercing I don’t know about?”

“No, “ Stu snorts. “But I did get stabbed in the stomach a few times so...” Pink Dude’s eye brows shoot up but he doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Ok, Jesus Macher,” Tammy throws her hands up, narrowly missing Pink Dude’s head. “I get it, I'm a pussy!”

“Aw, noo-“ He’s already laughing so the denial doesn’t sound particularly genuine.

“It’s just a pinch,” says Pink Dude. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes, yeah-” Tammy refocuses, steels herself then nods and squeezes her eyes shut. “If I don’t make it tell my mother I loved her.”

So he’s watching Pink Dude push a big needle through the skin below Tammy’s navel, and it really doesn’t look that bad. Like not at all, Stu could take that no problem. So now he’s looking at the pictures on the wall of all these different kinds of piercings and he’s thinking he might look kind of really fucking cool with one of these, right?

Plus, he’s pretty sure Billy would lose his mind if he pierced his lip. They’d been to Warped Tour when it came to Carson last summer and Stu had managed to make him stick around with him to see Blink after the Deftones set. When he asked him what he thought after Billy just shrugged.

“Singer looks like a homo with that fucking lip ring.” It was July and he’d had his baseball cap pulled down against the glaring sun, but from Stu’s angle it hid half his face too. “Girls only get that shit to suck dick.”

“I dunno I think it’s kinda cool,” Stu had said, mostly because he wanted to rile Billy up. It worked too, had Billy’s mouth twisting the same way it did when he caught him looking at Tatum’s tits. “Don’t you think I’d look cool with one of those?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy snapped, whipping his hat off to whack Stu with it and revealing some very red cheeks.

If he’d meant no he would have just said that, so yeah Billy thinks he would look hot with a lip ring. The only problem is that they’re pretty noticeable and he doesn’t really want to find out what his dad would have to say about that right now. He's been getting away with a lot since he almost died, but he genuinely thinks he might have lost his inheritance if ol' pops had been wise to the fact that he was the one who wrecked the new old house. A lip ring probably wouldn't get him kicked out, but when he'd pierced his own ear with a safety pin his dad went off about it and made him take it out just hours after he put it in.

So no lip piercings. The tongue ones though... he could probably keep that a secret until he moves out, right? 

“Hey man, d’you do tongues?” He doesn’t even wait till Pink Dude is done with Tammy.

Turns out he does do tongues though, so now Stu’s the one laying on the piercing table thing while a hot dude sticks a needle in him. He was right too, it’s not bad at all. Kinda feels a little too good but he thinks he hides that well enough. Then Pink Dude is screwing a little silver ball onto the metal post stuck through his tongue, and then it’s done. 

Stu’s got a tongue piercing. 

He’s so pumped up about it that he almost forgets what he’s supposed to do next until he steps back out onto the street and Tammy asks him for the directions he wrote out. He’s going to see Billy in like, ten minutes. 

He’s jittering in the car with this weird mix of anxiety and anticipation, shaky, but not the way you are when you’re sick. It’s more like the way you feel just before the start of a race. Adrenalized, pent up, focused. I’m going to see Billy, he keeps thinking, and then they pull up and he actually does see Billy. 

He’s turning down the alley next to the building Daye’s office is in, shoulders hunched up under his jacket as he pulls a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. Stu is unclipping his seatbelt before Tammy even stops the car. 

“Call you when I’m ready for a pickup-” He’s practically shouting at her, unable to keep himself from grinning as he throws the door open and steps out. 

“Ok? Bye, see you later I guess?” She sounds annoyed but he can’t really care, he feels like a dog on a scent. 

Billy’s lighting his cigarette, leaning back against the wall. He doesn’t even notice Stu’s approach until he’s stepping into the alleyway too, but when he looks up his eyes go wide. 

“Hey dude, long time no see!” He’s aiming for something like suave and chill but he misses that by a mile.

Billy seems frozen for a second, cigarette hanging from his lips. Only for a second though, after that he’s just rage. After that Billy’s marching forward, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him back behind a dumpster.

“Why the fuck are you here.” It’s not even a question, Billy’s eyes are flat black and his voice is low, quiet and monotone. 

So he’s like really, actually pissed and it’s nothing like the way he was that morning in Stu’s bedroom. He seemed scared that day, like a cornered, injured animal hissing and lashing out. Today there’s none of that, today he just looks furious and it’s sort of making Stu kinda hard.

“News lady wants to talk to me since I almost got murdered by a crazy girl.” He shrugs, plays casual and grins. Billy hasn’t let go of his shirt yet. “How bout you, why are you here man?” Yeah, he’s definitely trying to make it worse. He only has so much time to get him to give, and an angry Billy is a Billy that wants to fuck him. 

“This is my movie.” Billy sneers, mouth curved down. “You’re not even on the poster.” He looks fucking hot but he’s an asshole. He’s also wrong and they both know it.

“Yeah?” He props a hand on the wall next to Billy’s head and leans in a little closer. “Who jump-started the plot while you ran off for an alibi? Who got you out of jail? Who got your stupid girlfriend to come to the party, huh?” He starts out trying to seem aloof and cocky but he feels something else now. “Who came up with the fucking finale?” His voice jumps, too loud for a second and Billy blinks hard, finally letting go of Stu’s shirt. 

“You need to shut. The fuck. Up.” He breathes out of his nose, looking away. His mouth twists for a second before he lifts his cigarette and takes a long drag. Stu would kill to be that cigarette.

“Aww what,” He’s still grinning again now, if only because it makes Billy look at his mouth. “You wanna hurt me, baby?” I want you to hurt me, fuck, please hurt me, please-

“Don’t.” Billy snaps. “Don’t call me that.” Ok, we’re getting somewhere. Stu just needs to push a little harder.

“Right, sorry.” He feels light, jittery, starts bouncing on his toes without even noticing. It’s not the first time he’s used this line and it won’t be the last-“You wanna hurt me babygirl?”

Billy snaps. He grabs the hem of Stu’s shirt and yanks it up, then presses the lit end of his cig against the base of Stu’s stomach and he holds it there. At first it’s this prickling itching rushing up and almost unbearable, and seconds later it actually is. 

“F-Fuck,” It’s a moan, he’s moaning and thank fuck the traffic is louder. “Fuck, baby that’s so good-” It’s this deep, searing ache that makes him pant, makes his knees go a weak. “Aah, god damn,”

“Did you- did you pierce your fucking tongue?” Billy sputters, and even before his vision clears Stu can hear the hunger in his voice. 

Right. Yeah. He half forgot about it for a second, which is saying something because his tongue is definitely swollen at this point and he can taste blood .

“Yeah, like. Less than half an hour ago. Ya like it?” He does, that’s more than obvious from the way he’s glaring at it. 

“Fuck you.” Billy hisses. He tosses the now unlit cigarette aside, dropping the hem of Stu’s shirt. It stings badly as it catches on that raw patch of skin.

“See, I knew you missed me.” His eyes are watering from the pain but he's still grinning as he says it. For a split second after Billy’s eyebrows tip up in the middle, but then they pull firmly back down and he shoves Stu away, harsh and firm. 

“Don’t follow me.” Billy jabs a finger at him before turning around. “And don’t come inside.”

“Ok, pull-out method then? Rad.” Billy’s shoulders hunch up at that but he doesn’t reply or look back. 

That’s fine, he needs a second alone to make sure he’s not visibly hard before he goes in. He also has to un-stick his T-shirt from the burnt skin on his stomach and it hurts like hell.

When Stu gets to Daye’s office Billy’s already there, sitting across from her with his back to the door. He doesn’t turn or look back at all when she stands up to greet him and shake his hand. She goes through the whole 'it’s nice to meet you in person' and 'I hope the traffic wasn’t too bad', but once she’s done with that her eyes narrow and her tone changes. 

“Well, I don’t need to introduce the two of you.” She says it like a prompt, and then she watches. 

“Nah, we go way back. Right, Billy?” Stu’s had his body angled towards Billy since he sat down, and honestly he was barely looking at Daye when she was talking but this is the first time Billy acknowledges his presence. 

“Hi Stu.” Billy’s smiling pleasantly but none of it reaches his eyes “Good to see you, man.” He sounds like he used to when he talked to Sid, and it’s fucking chilling. It’s not… not hot, though. God I'm fucked up.

“Yeah-” He doesn’t have anything witty to say right now, he can’t look away from Billy, and Billy hasn’t even blinked. “... Good to see you too.” He says as he comes back online a little. “Really good.” He adds, because he means it, and Billy finally blinks, looks away.

Daye gets going after that, she’s got a whole pitch about press tours, book revenue and exclusive rights, really just a bunch of shit Stu can’t pay attention to because he’s sitting next to Billy. Also because there’s a fresh burn on his stomach and his nerves are screaming at him. It’s so much that he’s already getting a little loose, high on it. He just keeps glancing over at Billy, at the flushed skin of his neck and the way his fingers dig into the arm of his chair. God, he looks good. He still hasn’t cut his hair and it looks soft. Stu wants to bury his nose in it and run his fingers through it, and-

“So? What do you think, will you let me help you tell your story?” Sunny is looking at him expectantly, sounding like she's rehearsed that line in the mirror.

“I’m not signing anything until my lawyer has a chance to look over this,” Billy says, snatching a copy of Sunny’s contract from her desk and standing up. “I’ll be in touch.” He’s making himself sound all fucking smooth and grown up but he’s bullshitting, he’s obviously bullshitting. 

Maybe Daye can tell or maybe she can’t, but Stu’s not paying attention to her because Billy’s already up and heading for the exit. 

“Same-” He’s blurting, snatching his own contract up so fast that Daye lurches a little in her chair. “Bye!” He’s out the door before she has a chance to respond. She probably does say something back but he’s already moved on, speed walking with his eye on Billy’s back as her office door closes behind him. 

This is it. He’s locked in and Billy isn’t getting away this time. 

He feels like he’s got tunnel vision. There are other people around but it may as well just be the two of them walking out of the building, down the street. Billy hasn’t looked back yet, not once. Stu would almost think he didn’t know he was being followed if he wasn’t walking so fast and looking so stiff. It’s not like Stu is trying to be sneaky either, he’s walking right behind him and if Billy turned he’d wave. He doesn’t though. They walk 6 blocks like that and then Billy’s heading into an apartment complex. It’s one of those U shaped ones with a courtyard in the middle. It looks pretty swanky, honestly. 

Billy leads him three flights up the open-air stairwell, walks to the door at the end, unlocks it and goes inside. Five seconds later Stu’s knocking on the door, and one second after that Billy’s throwing it open. 

“Get the fuck inside.” He growls. 

Stu doesn't need to be told twice.

Chapter Text

Stu used to sleep over a lot when they were little. His mom would bring out an air mattress and set it up next to his bed, and they would stay up all night with a flashlight and Billy’s frayed copy of 'Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark'. He always slept well when Stu stayed over, no matter what they read or watched before passing out. That never changed.

Even last night, with his stomach in his throat he managed to pass out wrapped up in Stu, but tonight in his own bed alone it feels impossible. He's pathetic. He rolls around under his blankets, mind racing and completely alert for what feels like hours before he gets up. It’s 2 am and he just can’t keep trying, so he bundles himself up, pocketing his cigarettes and his Walkmen and climbing out his window to chainsmoke and freeze his ass off until he’s worn enough to pass-out. 

After that he’s sort of just on autopilot until they leave Woodsboro the next day. His mom keeps asking him what’s wrong on the drive back and it’s like nothing has changed since he left the first time. He just keeps saying he’s fine and eventually she leaves him alone. 

He doesn’t leave his room the day they get back, and he tries the same thing the next day only she drags him out. If he’s being honest he’s getting a little annoyed with her. She’s just always asking if he’s ok. Asking about Stu, asking how it was seeing him at Christmas, asking if something happened, and on day two he kind of blows up at her. He doesn’t mean to, it’s just that she won’t stop hovering, ‘checking in’ and trying to get him out of his room. All he wants is to be alone, to be quiet, but she’s always talking. 

So he tells her to shut the fuck up, and then he leaves because he can’t stand the way it makes her look at him. It’s not like he’s got anywhere to go, but he can’t be around her so he eventually ends up at the cinema that plays all the Hitchcock stuff.

Today they’re screening 'Four Flies on Grey Velvet', which is sort of a blessing. It’s an Argento flick, they aren’t super easy to get your hands on and even when he could he mostly didn’t watch them with Stu. Stu is annoying when he’s bored with something you’re watching, he suddenly has a million unrelated things he needs to talk about, and if Billy tells him to shut up he’ll start squirming and sighing loudly. If he keeps trying to ignore him eventually he’ll start taking his clothes off and inciting violence. 

…And now he’s thinking about Stu again, because he’s stupid. 

He’s itchy and overheated walking into the theater, but at least it’s empty. Apparently he’s the only one interested in seeing a Giallo movie at 6pm a few days after Christmas. It’s basically his ideal viewing experience. When you’re the only one there you get to sit right in the middle, far enough from the screen to take it all in, and perfectly centred so the picture isn’t warped and the sound hits you exactly the way it’s designed to. All without a backing track of whispering, coughing and chewing, so he’s trying to just focus on that.

Realistically he should be feeling better now, he should be able to not think about it and move on but he’s got that hollow, hungry feeling coming on strong and it’s setting him on edge. When he’s like this it’s harder, and he doesn’t have the capacity to control his own thoughts anymore. 

If Stu was here he would sit to Billy’s right. Stop it.

Billy’s got his hands balled up tight through the previews but he relaxes a little when the movie actually starts, at least until someone opens the doors at the back of the theatre. 

It’s annoying enough that they’re barging in late, but even worse they’re wearing the world's squeakiest pair of sneakers. Billy is gritting his teeth, praying for the douchebag to sit as far away as possible, but they don’t, they just keep coming closer until they’re walking down the same row Billy’s sitting in. Somehow he knows who it is before he even turns to look.

“Hey there, final boy.” Mickey from homeroom drops into the seat next to him, and Billy thinks maybe he’s been cursed. “Been seeing you around here a lot. Who’s the milf you keep showing up with?” MILF? Fucking milf?

“Don’t talk about my mother like that you absolute swine-” It almost feels good to be this suddenly, violently angry, but there's no catharsis when Mickey’s grin doesn’t falter.

“Aww that’s cute, little movie dates with mommy dearest?” The scumbag does some kind of pout thing and puts a hand over his heart, mocking like he’s touched. Billy feels his nose wrinkle and grits his teeth. Just keep going, see what happens. “You two must be close. Do you dress up like her too, Mr. Bates?”

“You better shut the fuck up.” He’s got his pocket knife out, flicked open. It’s probably not the smartest thing to do but smart isn’t in the room right now so he doesn’t give a shit. God, the way things have been lately it would feel really good to stab this guy, wouldn’t it? He just needs a release, he really does and he could just stab this guy in the neck over and over, until he’s practically decapitated-

“That’s a cute knife,” Billy blinks hard, refocuses. Mickey hasn’t moved and he doesn’t look threatened at all. “From the pictures it’s smaller than your girlfriend’s, but y’know what they say; the camera adds ten pounds-” Billy almost had himself locked down again there, but the douchebag’s audacity is really just a lit match.

“It’s big enough to slit your throat.” He’s skipped the yelling stage, this is a snarl.

“Wow…” Mickey is absolutely grinning now, and Billy really can’t stab him in the middle of the theater, right? He really can’t. God he wants to. “You’re kinda screwed up aren’t you? Here I was thinking you’d be boring-” Don’t stab him. Put the knife away. Put. It. Away.

“Why are you following me?” With great difficulty he presses his knife closed, not entirely aware of the way he’s rubbing his thumb against the engraving on the handle.

“I’m not.” Mickey says. His eyes are on Billy’s hands as he pockets the knife. 

“Right, so you just happen to have seen me here before and I’ve never seen you?” 

“Dude, I work here.” It’s at this point he realizes that Mickey is wearing a nametag. Oh. “You probably weren’t paying attention to the guy who came in and cleaned the theatre after you left. We can’t all be rich kids y’know,” Asshole. “I gotta save up for film school.” 

Film school. The idea that Mickey would get to go on to something like that in college kind of really annoys him. Billy hasn’t really been thinking about college. He’s been focused on other things. 

“I’m not a rich kid.” He sneers, just to have a retort. It’s not like he gives a shit what Mickey calls him but he looks smug and it’s annoying as hell

“Your mom drives a beemer, man. You’re not poor.” The bastard is snickering. 

“Whatever.” Billy is kicking the seat in front of him before he can stop himself. “You’re still a creep, go sit somewhere else.”

“Nah, I like it here. I think I’ll stay. Plus, the conversation is so stimulating, I can barely-”

“Fine.” He’s grabbing his coke and standing, because as much as he hates to be the one to fold he needs to get some distance before he decides to stab him after all. He doesn’t even walk to the end of the aisle, he just starts climbing up over the seats, but apparently he’s in hell because he’s only one row up when Mickey starts climbing after him. He only makes it up three more rows before he realizes the asshole isn’t going to give up. 

“So, what do you think of the movie so far?" Jesus, he’s relentless.

“Dunno, haven’t been able to watch it.” Billy’s got his hand in his pocket, thumb on his knife again. “Some idiot’s been talking the whole time.”

Mickey just laughs, perpetually unbothered. 

“Just thought the plot of this one might hit a little too close to home, y’know? Since the killer is the girlfriend. Or- well, the wife, but same difference.” Jesus Christ, this stupid clown can’t stop himself from talking about Sid, and Billy can feel his scowl etching itself in deeper. “Pardon the spoiler.” Mickey’s tone makes it clear he doesn’t mean it. 

“Ok listen shit-heel,” He’s been trying to keep his eyes on the screen, trying not to look at Mickey because the grinning makes him want to rip his hair out but he turns to look at him now. “I don’t know what you’re looking for bringing her up all the time but you aren’t scaring me. She’s not my Micheal Myers, she’s not my Jason Voorhees, she’s not even my Ricky Caldwell, do you understand me? Sidney Prescott was a hysterical bitch with mommy issues and I’m tired of talking about her.” It all comes out of him at once, no pauses. 

“Damn, nice monologue.” Mickey’s got his eyebrows pushed up. God damn it. “Anyway, I’ll let you watch the rest in peace.” He winks, he fucking winks. “I gotta get home now so I’m gonna dip, but you should come to my buddy Derek’s New Year’s thing. Here-” He pulls a folded scrap of paper from his pocket and tosses it in Billy’s lap before he can react, then he stands up from his seat. “Toodles!” He’s waving goodbye like a child, wiggling his fingers as he backs away.     

It’s a really good thing he’s leaving because Billy’s still thinking about cutting his head off with a pocket knife, and the second Mickey’s actually gone he’s punching himself in the legs. He stays until the end of the movie but he doesn’t really watch it, he’s too busy thinking about how he would kill Mickey, and the thought of planning a murder inevitably brings him back to Stu so he’s punching his legs again. 

What is he supposed to do with this? With any of this? He can’t do anything without feeling like he’s about to lose his mind and it’s only getting worse. He needs to break the cycle. He has no fucking clue how. 

When he gets home after the movie his mom is on the phone with someone, he can hear her talking from the foyer but she’s hung up by the time he’s passing her in the kitchen. She tries to talk to him. He ignores her, he feels bad about it, he wants to scream at her. In the end he just goes to his room, blasts his music and paces, punches his legs, his bed, his head a few times. 

So things are totally fucking peachy.

Behind his eyes it’s this constant feed of flashbacks, jumbled, jagged and frantic so he can barely see through the memory of Stu in his new bedroom, crying and looking so stupidly happy. Stu smug and grinning, Stu moaning, Stu looking at him like he wants to smack Billy’s head against the wall. Stu seeing straight through him like he always does. 

None of this has gone the way it was supposed to. 

The break was supposed to be clean, it was supposed to give him a fresh start and if he wasn’t being such a fag about it he could have found it satisfying, but it’s nothing close to either of those things. He doesn’t feel free. He doesn’t feel ready.

Because what the hell is he going to do now? If he wasn’t so pathetic he would have already started working on the sequel, he’d be choosing targets, looking for some poor sap to frame, he’d be moving on. But he’s not doing any of that because he doesn't have anything worthwhile inside him.

Is this it? Did he fucking peak in high school?

He’s desperately aware of the fact that he should have planned for this. He should have done something, anything to avoid the way this feels. Before the shit went down he wasn’t thinking about the future much, though- not before the murders and not before he ended things with Stu. The future was all vague plans, naive little daydreams. A memoir, maybe a movie. Press tours. And then round two, the sequel.

-Because he definitely wants to do this again. With Stu. And he must be giddy from the exertion because for a second he’s not thinking about living alone when he moves out next year-

And that’s the kind of memory that makes him feel like he can’t breathe.

Billy doesn’t sleep well that night, and he wakes up on the 31st feeling no better. His mother isn’t helping, she’s all forced cheer, doing a bad job pretending everything is fine between them. It’s sort of impressive given that he’s basically a brick wall right now. 

She knows better than to keep trying with him but she does it anyway and it drives him out of the house again. He knows she’s disappointed and it tugs at him a little but it’s nowhere near enough to overpower the itch under his skin. 

He can’t walk around and smoke forever, he’s been doing way too much of that as it is. He just needs something to get him out, anything at this point. The problem is the theatre is closed today and there’s not really anything else he’d want to do so he just keeps walking until his feet hurt and then he goes home. 

Dinner with his mom is a nightmare. She’s obviously put a lot of effort into making stuff she knows he likes and on some level he thinks he should probably be nice about it but also he’s still really goddamn annoyed, and that’s why he ends up going to Mickey’s friend’s party. 

He takes his time getting there so it’s well underway when he arrives. It’s a lot of people he recognizes from school but he doesn’t really know anyone's name. Everyone knows his name though. Too many of them try to say hi as he walks through the place, and it’s a big fucking place by the way. No sight of Mickey, who unfortunately is the only person he’s had a conversation with, but it’s not like he actually wants to talk to that motherfucker. 

It’s not like he wants to be here in the first place, it’s just the lesser of two evils so he desperately needs to find some alcohol. 

He’s on his way to hunt down a keg or a stray bottle of liquor when he runs into the blonde bitch he sits next to in biology. He still hasn’t bothered to learn her name, and at this point he’s not going to ask. She was a little standoffish after he turned her down but clearly it didn’t last because she blushes when he asks her where to get a drink. She takes him to the kitchen and gives him a shot of tequila and a can of beer, and he makes his escape when she briefly turns to talk to someone else. 

The shot is warm in his chest as he cracks his beer to chase it, taking a second to scan the crowd. He’s not really sure why, he’s not looking for anyone; he’s only here so he can have a place to hang out that’s not his house. There’s no reason he needs to socialize so he wanders out to the back patio. The yard matches the house, it's sprawling, carefully manicured, and there are people out here too but he only has to walk so far to get away from them. He ends up at a gazebo on the far side of the pool, and seated on the steps he’s pretty sure he’s completely out of view. Just like that it’s a little easier to breathe.

He drinks his beer, he lights a cigarette, and he wonders where Stu is. 

He doesn’t mean to but maybe it’s inevitable and he’s sort of too tired to be pissed at himself for it. It’s past 11, he knows that much and he would have heard the countdown if midnight had passed. He was probably with Stu in his room this time last year. Christ.

His chest aches on the next inhale, and he’s just thinking why? Why does this have to be so hard? Because he’s empty. He’s empty, and nothing feels good, and he doesn’t like anyone, and every stupid day feels like it lasts a hundred years. He can’t just keep being like this, this can’t be his life now, right? He’s got this sinking feeling that it is. 

And if that’s true what’s the point of anything? 

“You’d be safer inside with everyone else.” Suddenly someone is standing next to his bench. 

“What the fuck??” The intrusion jolts him, has him fumbling his cigarette. Which is extra embarrassing when he realizes it's Mickey, because of course it is. You couldn’t write this shit. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Sorry man, didn’t mean to scare you,”  Mickey obviously doesn’t mean it, he’s already laughing at him. Yesterday Billy probably would have started yelling but right now he’s just… 

“Whatever.” Billy sighs, downing the last of his beer as the douchebag sits down next to him. 

“I was just saying you’d be safer with the crowd.” God, this fucking dude. “Out here all by your lonesome? You never go off on your own during the party scene, makes you an easy target.” He says this like Billy doesn’t know the stupid rules. 

The creep is grinning, screwing the cap off a bottle of cheap whiskey. Just to spite him Billy swipes it before he can take a sip.

“Ok yeah, no worries man,” Mickey’s eye-roll is audible. “Help yourself.” Billy does, possibly more than necessary. It burns enough to make him cringe as he hands it back. 

Mickey just sort of stares for a second too long, taking a drink of his own when Billy doesn’t respond.

“Y’know, by my estimate there’s at least four active serial killers in LA right now,” That’s how Mickey decides to break the silence, and Billy has to admit it’s a hell of an icebreaker. 

Normally he’d consider the guy conventionally good looking; square jaw, strong chin, high cheekbones, all-american in a sort of boring way. Under the sharp relief of moonlight though, his face changes. His eyes are a little too wide, a little too open when he smiles. If Billy was someone else he might feel threatened. 

 “-And that’s only counting bodies the pigs are connecting.” He sounds excited. Huh. “How many do you think there really are- Ten? Twenty? Could be one at this party for all we know.” 

At first this crap just pissed him off but Billy’s starting to get curious. Because everyone treats him weird now that he’s a ‘victim’, but Mickey’s kind of weird isn’t that infantilizing awe he gets from the rest of them. It’s like Mickey is trying to scare him. Which is actually sort of entertaining.  

“Good thing I have plot armour.” You don’t though. He feels himself smirking and it’s not forced at all. It almost feels good in spite of everything. 

“Dunno, final boy, you might not be Tommy Jarvis.” Mickey’s grinning again, completely alight. “What if you’re Alice Hardy? What if the sequel opens on your death?” And that’s almost a threat isn’t it? Dude’s probably just being an asshole but Billy wants the fight enough to take the bait. 

“Y’know, I stabbed my crazy ex.” Fuck, it feels so good to say that, to drop the act for a second. Good enough that he doesn’t even pause to consider if it’s a smart move to keep going. “Shot her father too when he came at me, and I would gladly do it again. So if some knock-off fuck wants to play copy cat I’m more than ready.” He really, really is, and the thought hits so hard that he needs another cigarette. 

“Fun.” Mickey speaks low and quiet. Billy can feel his gaze on his face as he focuses on opening his pack and fishing out a smoke. “Those things’ll kill ya, y’know.” he says this as he steals one. 

Billy’s about to slap it out of his hand and crush it with a boot just to spite him, but then Mickey hands over the whiskey again so he begrudgingly takes a shot instead. Yeah, he’s definitely getting hazy. 

“Almost midnight, by the way.” Mickey bounces his stupid eyebrows. “Gonna go in for the countdown? Bet Julie Hardesty’ll give you a New Years kiss,”

“Who th’fuck is that?” Billy’s sneering before he can catch himself. He should probably at least pretend to be flattered by that right? Seems like a lot of work though. 

“Chick who got you that beer,” Mickey snorts. “She’s stacked, man. Y’know most dudes would take advantage of all the attention you’re getting.” There’s almost an implication in that, and it sours the next drag he takes on his cigarette. 

“Hardesty’s not my type.” Billy doesn’t like how bitter he sounds when he says this, and he doesn’t look to see if Mickey noticed.

“So…” Bastard sounds way too entertained. “You’re not into dirty blondes?” No that’s definitely not it. “Or maybe you’re more of an ass man-” Fucking hell. 

“Do you ever stop talking?” Billy’s makes the mistake of eye contact with a glare and Mickey’s already looking back at him, like he knows there’s something on his hook. Which there is. Because Billy’s being an idiot.

“So it is the ass thing.” Mickey is snickering because that’s all he does, and Billy is wanting to punch him.

“Jesus Christ.” Is what he says instead.

“Sidney musta had some real junk in the trunk.” 

“Ew.” It’s a snap reaction and he wishes he could swallow it immediately. His filter is sort of shredded at this point. It’s the compounded effects of the last few days and the shot he took, and the beer he downed-

“Ew?” Mickey laughs, looking delighted in the most aggravating way. “You dated her, dude.” Shit. 

“Yeah, well.” Come on. Be normal. Be a normal guy. “Forgive me if I don’t have the best memories, not like we split on good terms.” Ok yeah. That’s good. That sounds reasonable.

“Daaamn, your standards are high…” Mickey pops his eyebrows way up. “If a chick with a fat ass tried to kill me I think I’d just propose.” 

And that’s stupid right? It’s a ridiculous thing to say, but now he’s laughing, like actually laughing. It feels good until his stupid faggot brain brings him down, thinking you sound like Stu. After that it just sort of aches. 

At this point he’s about to be smoking the filter of his cigarette so he stubs it out. He’s almost considering lighting another when Mickey pulls a joint from behind his ear, and Billy realizes that’s what he actually wants. More oblivion. 

“You gonna share that?” He doesn’t even wait for Mickey to finish lighting it. 

Mickey shoots him a look, then takes a long inhale. He exhales slow, thick blue smoke pouring from his mouth so it coils, drifting up around his face. Billy always thought it was stupid hot when Stu did that. Ugh. Fucker.

“Well, since you were so generous with the cancer stick,” Mickey doesn’t pass the joint immediately, he takes another long pull first, still staring Billy down like they’re playing chicken. He’s about to complain about it when Mickey pulls the joint from his lips, grabs Billy by the back of the neck, and pulls him in to blow the smoke directly into his mouth. 

It’s the last thing he’s expecting. It’s so fucking not-expected that he doesn’t do anything about it, he just gasps, which is about as good as inhaling. Mickey’s hand is firm on the back of his neck and his skin is hot, and Billy’s mind is totally blank. It’s only when Mickey lets go that he comes back online and that cold, prickling rush is already spreading out over his skin. 

“-The fuck are you doing??” Billy’s snarling, shoving the bastard as hard as he can. “Get away from me with that faggot shit-” He’s already too late, he knows that, it’s already suspicious so he’s on his feet, fingers flicking furiously before he can catch himself. Mickey doesn’t match him at all.

“I was sharing,” The asshole is shrugging, looking way too casual as he stands to face him. 

“That’s disgusting,” Billy wrinkles his nose. He makes a show of wiping his mouth but Mickey just raises his eyebrows.

“Ok ass-man, who’s the hottest girl in our class?” The question feels like an accusation and Mickey has the audacity to step closer so Billy shoves him again, harder than the first time. 

“The hell does that have to do with anything?” His heart is racing and his hands are fists.

“Exactly.” Mickey is smirking, still looking way too relaxed even though Billy’s basically squaring up.

“What?” He thinks he might be shaking. “Just cause I don’t have a hard-on for the hags around here I’m-” His throat just sort of closes, and now he’s just wordless with his mouth open and Mickey’s smiling like a trap spider. No. No, this is bad, not now, not him, he can’t- 

“Chill, I can keep a secret… besides, nothing wrong with a little male bonding.” Mickey bounces his eyebrows, and usually Billy would have lost it by now, only he almost thinks the douchebag might mean it. He’s not going to take that kind of chance though. 

“I’m not-” Gay. He almost says it out loud but even that feels like an admission of guilt. “Shut up,” He says, feeling his face going hot as his hands buzz with static. Mickey isn’t exactly running to go tell everyone inside but he is grinning. “I’m not like that.” Billy twists his mouth, rolls his eyes, and prays to Carpenter that it’s convincing. 

“Whatever you say, Loomis.” Mickey doesn’t look convinced. Mickey is biting his lip. “Too bad though, you look like you’d be good at it.”

 …Wait what? 

Billy feels himself blink hard, feels his mouth fall open, tries desperately to come up with anything to say, and fails. Because here’s the thing; he’s starting to think Mickey is flirting with him. Actually he’s pretty sure, Like almost 100% sure because now that he’s thinking about it he keeps glancing at Billy’s mouth. 

Mickey is not at all unattractive, and the relentlessly creepy behaviour is paradoxically making him a lot more interesting. Billy maybe wasn’t really paying attention before but, well, yeah. He didn’t smell bad just now either, and sure, fine, he might have peeked a little in the change-room after gym. 

Maybe he’s drunk, but he’s starting to think that might be what he needs. That’s what people say right? The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Maybe he needs to wipe the slate clean, do something meaningless and fun so he can move on.

Mickey fills the silence by laughing. Billy grabs him by the front of the shirt and shuts him up. 

It’s like Mickey was expecting it because he doesn’t hesitate to kiss back, he’s grabbing Billy by the hips to pull their bodies together, and Billy lets him. It feels like a fight, both of them trying to lead, biting, grabbing, pulling hair and then Mickey’s tongue is in his mouth, and…

Well, he’s not doing anything wrong. It doesn’t feel bad but if Stu was kissing him like this he’d be turning into that other version of himself. He’d be retreating out of his mind, sinking into his body, but he’s still up in his head, fully in control.

Mickey’s really not a bad kisser. Not at all. So why doesn’t it feel better than this? He’s not a girl, Billy actually finds him attractive, and he still feels like he’s going through the motions. It’s just tactile stimulation. It’s not Stu. It’s not Stu, and he wants Stu. 

The realization smacks him in the face and the rage crashes down like a bomb. Just like that his hands switch from pulling to pushing, and he’s shoving Mickey off again, balling a fist, and swinging. It’s a good punch, that’s obvious because Mickey grunts and goes down right away, but Billy can barely process it because his brain is screaming static. 

“If you tell anybody I’ll fucking kill you.” He snarls, and Mickey grins up at him with a bloody nose. 

“Yeah, no problem man!” This psycho is laughing but Billy’s body is already moving, leaving him in the dirt and making the fastest escape he can. “See ya later Loomis!

Fuck.

He’s basically walking blind, letting his legs take him down the road away from the party because everything behind his eyes is Stu. Kissing him for the first time after killing Maureen, kissing him in his basement, in his bedroom, on his couch, in his car.

“Fuck.” He hears himself but he’s not really in control of his mouth. He’s starting to drift out of his body again, tumbling back down into his mind and ending up buried in Stu, suffocated by the memory of him, forcing itself into the frame so he can’t see anything else.

The bomb hits again but this time he’s not exploding he’s just crumbling, falling apart, hitting the ground even though he hasn’t stopped walking. Because that’s not good, is it? 

It’s really not fucking good-

…
…
…

Billy wakes up in his room. 

It’s obviously daytime, there’s sharp yellow light slipping in around the edges of the curtains. He feels sticky, overheated and disoriented, and he doesn’t remember getting home but the empty bottle of whisky on the floor explains the memory loss. He must have taken that from Mickey. 

Shit. 

Mickey. 

His stomach curdles as snippets of last night start to surface- 'The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else'. What the fuck is that? Why did he think kissing that freak would be a good idea? Since when has anything ever been that easy for him?

As it is, his only saving grace is the fact that he’s pretty sure Mickey’s not going to try to blackmail him, and if he does? Well that’s just an excuse to do something he already wants to do. He still doesn’t need more bullshit to deal with though, and he definitely doesn’t want to have to look the dude in the face when school starts again. 

He groans, tries to bury himself a little further into his blankets but it’s too hot and he can’t breathe so he just ends up kicking them all off again. God, he really doesn’t want to have to be conscious right now but his brain has already revved up too much for him to be able to fall back asleep. 

It’s all so stupid too, like, was he trying to replace what he got from Stu? He doesn’t need that, it's the whole reason he left Woodsboro. He didn’t need it before either, he just let himself get used to it. He doesn’t need a replacement. He doesn’t need anything but himself. Himself, and his sequel. 

And so what if he doesn't feel inspired right now? That's not an excuse to be lazy, he could be doing research, he could be making his own damn inspiration. He could be watching sequels, and he’s pretty damn sick of wallowing in his own misery so he decides to start immediately. 

His head aches, his skin is hot and prickly from the hangover but it feels good to have a purpose again. It’s such a simple solution, he doesn’t know why he’s been making everything so goddamn complicated. He’s been way too focused on the homo shit, he can like it but that doesn’t mean he has to do it. 

Sex isn’t water and neither is love; he doesn’t need either of them to survive. 

Things are a little better after that. Sort of.

School starts again and Mickey has a purple-green bruise spreading out over his cheek. He doesn’t say anything about it though. It’s just a smirk and a 'happy New Years, final boy', and then he’s back to his normal: annoying, with only a little more staring than before.

That could turn out to be useful though, Billy’s still working out the plot but it’s never bad to keep your options open. He’s going to need someone to take the fall, right? Mickey isn’t the worst choice. He has decent taste, there’s definitely something wrong with him, and apparently he’s into Billy like that. That’s more than enough, he can work with that.

He’s still spending most of his time in his room, but now he’s watching movies and taking notes so his mom doesn’t get on his ass about it as much. It’s pretty much business as usual for him as far as she knows. He stops acting like a pussy and forces himself back to Blockbuster. He has to, he needs more sequels. 

It’s not comfortable, but he does it and it’s fine. He’s been a little bitch about everything lately, and as always he just needed to suck it up and move on. Eventually (he’s hoping), he won’t feel so hollow at night after he turns the lights off. He just needs time, and that’s fine. He’s got stuff to do anyway, like his college applications.

It was only a few days after New Years when his mom brought it up. She was obviously being delicate about it, trying not to piss him off again, and that’s annoying for some reason but he’s not going to focus on it. In fairness to her the application deadlines are coming up and he’s going to need some time on location before he can start the sequel properly. He’s going to need time to know people again. 

His grades are relatively average, but he’s got a hell of a story so he makes that the focus of his essay. At the very least his English teacher thinks he stands a chance, so he sends his applications out and hopes for the best. He mostly picked programs at colleges that had the right kind of scenery. Location is everything.

All in all, he thinks he’s on the right track. So what if his voicemail is still full? He’s moving on and he’s not thinking about him, and that’s what matters. And apparently fate is on his side for once, because the new Top Story lady calls him three weeks into 1997 saying she wants his story so she can write a book. 

Books get made into movies. Books get publicity, and he needs to capitalize off of that as quickly as he can if he wants to make something out of it. The fame won’t last forever, eventually some other massacre will come along and knock all his hard work out of frame. 

There’s a split second during her pitch where Billy wonders if she called him too. He’s really been trying not to think about that lately but he’s going to have too now, if she hasn’t contacted him yet, she will soon. But she won’t ask him to come to LA. Probably. Probably she’ll meet him in Woodsboro or something, so everything's fine and he doesn’t need to worry about it.

Ok, he’s worrying about it. He should have just asked her, but then that would have sounded weird, wouldn’t it? Either way his mom gives him something else to worry about the day before the meeting

He’s pretty jacked up, and it’s making him a little hyperactive. He’s been out, walking and smoking for way too long. He keeps forgetting to eat lately so he’s sort of starving as well, in a way that makes him feel nauseous when it mixes with the nicotine. He heads home, hoping he might be able to find some semblance of peace there now that he’s exhausted himself, but he only has to open the door to realize that’s not going to happen.

“- well, I don’t know, Hank…” 

Hank? Why the fuck is she talking to him ? She doesn’t sound mad or annoyed and he’s having flashbacks to the way they were at Christmas. Billy’s jaw clenches so hard he can feel it in his temples. 

“After everything that’s happened, I just- it really makes you think doesn’t it?” He’s being quiet intentionally now, doesn’t matter how hungry he is, he needs to hear what she’s about to say. “ We almost lost him, and…” Her voice trembles and she pauses as he presses his back to the wall just outside the kitchen where she stands.

“I mean he wasn’t right for a long time, he’s only just getting back to himself now. If he’d-” It sounds like she sort of chokes at the thought of whatever she’s about to say. “God, I really don’t know what I would have done if we’d lost him.” As much as he’s annoyed by the fact that she’s talking to Hank again, he does feel a little bit warm at the genuine fear in her voice. 

If he’d died she would have lost her mind, and that seems about right. 

“I know, I know,” After a pause she laughs, and her voice gets a little smaller. “It’s just- it made me miss us.” No. This can’t be what it sounds like, right? “I miss being a family.” No, no, no- 

He needs this to stop, now, so he takes a few intentionally loud steps and she cuts herself off, whispering a goodbye because she’s hiding this shit, because she knows he’s not going to like it and apparently she’s a coward.

She’s still in the process of setting the phone back in its cradle when he storms through the kitchen. She tries to say something to him, probably a greeting or something about dinner but she shuts her mouth when he cuts her a glare, and apparently she’s starting to learn because she doesn’t try to get him to talk again when she brings him his dinner.

As always these days he doesn’t sleep well, and he wakes up feeling like he got bulldozed overnight. It’s not a good way to start the day, and today is actually kind of important so he needs to get his head in the game. Instead he just drinks too much coffee and chews the inside of his cheek until it bleeds

He gets to the top story building five minutes early, which isn’t intentional. He doesn’t like showing up anywhere early, the earlier you are the longer you have to wait, and you probably won’t be lucky enough to be allowed to do that alone. He thinks he’s being spared that fate when Daye’s assistant just sends him in early. 

“Billy Loomis,” Daye stands from her desk as he enters the room. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Can I call you Billy?”  Her smile is something he would describe as slick. It looks smooth, practiced, like she’s taking a picture as she shakes his hand. 

“Go for it.” He plasters on a smile, and it does feel good to be acting again.

“Great! Ok, well when Mr. Macher gets here we can start.” Fuck. 

FUCK.

His mind goes straight to a frantic static- he’s not exactly surprised. He has to imagine this is what it felt like to be Nancy Thompson, watching her mom get dragged back through her own door right before the credits roll

“Can I get you anything?” It takes him a second to realize she’s still talking.  She’s staring at him. One of her eyebrows is quirked up, and he doesn’t like that. He feels like he’s being studied and he needs to get his shit together. “Water? Coffee?”

“I'm good, thanks.” He fixes his face, smooths himself out a little as he gets to his feet. “Actually I’m gonna step out for a smoke since Macher’s late.” He doesn’t know why but it doesn’t feel safe to say his first name right now. 

“Sure.” Daye says, giving him a smile as fake as his own. 

He’s trying not to rush, but he doesn’t take his time leaving her office either. It’s only as he steps out into blinding sunlight that he realizes his hands are shaking, and he’s starting to blink hard. He probably doesn’t even have that much time before he’ll be here, not nearly enough time to pull himself together so if he didn’t need a cigarette before he definitely does now. 

He only has time to light up before the meteor hits.

“Hey dude, long time no see!” The first thing Stu says to him is a taunt.

This hot, itching, rage rushes over him, locks him up inside his body so he can’t even breathe, can’t think. Then the locks break off and he busts out of himself. It’s a terrible idea but he’s too gone to even consider it, he’s just closing the distance, just hands moving, grabbing and yanking.

“Why the fuck are you here.” He feels himself speaking more than he hears it. He doesn’t even know why he’s asking, it’s basically a rhetorical question, just an expression of rage and Stu looks excited. Which only makes it worse. 

Of course the asshole plays dumb, says some cocky bullshit, grinning and looking so goddamn satisfied. Like he knows. And of course he fucking knows, of course he does. He’s probably hard right now, and Billy’s gripping his collar so hard his knuckles ache.

“This is my movie. You’re not even on the poster.” It’s far from a proper response to what Stu just said, but he thinks he might be shaking a little and it was the most hurtful thing he could think of. 

It doesn’t seem to phase Stu though, not even a little because he just leans in, all hooded eyes as he props a hand on the wall next to Billy’s head just like he did in his bedroom, and it’s sort of hard to breathe. 

“Who came up with the fucking finale?” Suddenly Stu’s barking at him, baring his teeth for a second and Billy hates himself because it’s hot, it’s really fucking hot when Stu goes all angry dog. And maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t exactly been getting off a lot lately but god, he wants him right now, in this alleyway in the middle of the day. He could just grab him again, drag him around the corner, push him to the ground- 

Instead he tells Stu to shut up and sucks hard on his cigarette. It doesn’t help.

“Aww what, you wanna hurt me, baby?” Stu reads his stupid fag mind.

“Don’t.” His restraint is fraying. “Don’t call me that.” Is he losing his mind or can he hear Stu’s pulse? He can definitely smell him. 

“Right, sorry.” Stu lies, bounces on his toes and Billy feels like a time bomb. “You wanna hurt me babygirl?” Yeah I really do.

So that’s it. He’s familiar with this feeling by now, the losing-it feeling. It happens way too easily and the backslide feels inevitable. Even as he grinds the glowing hot tip of his cigarette down into Stu’s flushed skin he wonders if he ever really believed he’d be able to stop himself, and he feels sick with it. He feels relief too, and he hates himself for that. 

“F-Fuck, fuck, baby that’s so good-” Stu’s whining, not pulling away even a little because he’s a good dog, he’s always been a good dog. “Aah, god damn,” Billy lets himself look up to see Stu’s eyes closed, his mouth open in that dying saint expression, and- 

There’s something silver in his mouth?

“Did you-” His voice half cuts and his stupid gay dick twitches in his stupid gay pants. “did you pierce your fucking tongue?” And yeah, now he’s imagining some bitch sticking a needle in his dog, and he’s wondering did you moan? Were you hard? He’s clenching his jaw so hard it feels like his molars might crack.

“Yeah, like. Less than half an hour ago. You like it?” And Stu knows what he’s doing to him, that’s clear in the way he’s grinning, still breathing hard, stomach tensed up from the pain because Billy still hasn’t pulled the cigarette away even though the cherry’s been more than effectively smothered.

“Fuck you.” It’s barely a comeback and shit this is going downhill fast, he needs to get the hell away so he forces himself to drop the cigarette and let go of Stu’s shirt. He doesn’t miss the way Stu flinches as the cotton drags down over melted skin. 

“See, I knew you missed me.” He was expecting another smug comeback but there’s no mirth under the words. 

Stu’s just stating a fact and Billy feels like some spotlight just switched on to blind him completely. Because of course he fucking missed him, it’s the reason he left in the first place and Stu’s just going to call him on it? He’s just going to say that out loud? There’s a million venomous things whipping up inside him and none of them will lead anywhere good, none of them will help him come back from this colossal screw up. 

There’s a part of him that doesn’t want to come back from it. There’s a part of him that wants to step into the fire and give up, let Stu burn him alive all over again because it feels incredible to fall to ashes and it’s exhausting to keep putting himself out. But he’s not going to be that pathetic. 

“Don’t follow me.” He shoves his temptation away, hoping his anger will drown out the desperation clogging his throat. “And don’t come inside.” He’s trying not to run but he really, really wants to.

“Ok, pull-out method then? Rad.” 

Christ.

He’s not stupid enough to think Stu will actually listen to him, there’s no way he’s going to leave and now Billy has to sit through this stupid meeting with stupid fucking curious Sunny Daye. His heart is pounding, his palms are slick with sweat, and even when he’s back in her office sitting down he’s got Stu’s burning skin behind his eyes. He’s so goddamn distracted and stupid and dick-brained that he barely manages to acknowledge Daye’s greeting. 

And then Stu walks into the room and it’s over. 

Stu and Daye introduce themselves and then Stu’s sitting down next to him, smiling at him like nothing happened in the alley just now, and he’s completely screwed at this point. He’s hyper aware of the reporter watching them, prodding at them, and Stu’s staring him down like he’s trying to look through his skin. Get it together, put your mask on.

“Hi Stu.” It feels like stepping into cool water and his pulse slows a fraction.  “Good to see you, man.” That’s better. 

Stu seems a little dazed in response but then he does the disarming honesty thing and Billy loses any upper hand he might have had. He doesn’t get it back either because this bitch is talking about the book she wants to write about them, the interviews she wants to film and the press tour and photo shoots and movie rights, and he’s just got Stu’s voice drowning her out, going 'F-Fuck, fuck, baby that’s so good', and he’s crossing his legs to hide the fact that he’s not completely soft. He feels like he’s holding himself down, gripping the arms of his chair so he doesn’t jump up and drag Stu into the nearest maintenance closet. 

God, he really is a mess.

He barely even hears what she says as she slides their contracts across the table, he just grabs one and says some bullshit about having his lawyer take a look before he makes a beeline for the door. He’s not even going to pretend he’s trying to get away because he’s not. Stu’s going to follow him like he always does, and he should feel worse about that than he does but he can barely see through the 'you wanna hurt me babygirl?' And the 'fuck fuck fuck!' And the 'Billy please'-

He’s overheated, itchy and frantic under his clothes, leading Stu straight to his apartment even though it’s obviously a massive mistake to show him where to find him. He’s already completely fucked now, though. He can’t stop his legs from moving though, can’t make himself turn around to put up even the weakest resistance just so he can tell himself he tried when he’s punching himself in the thighs later. 

Billy just really wants to see that cigarette burn. 

Also he’s pissed the hell off at Stu right now. For showing up with his tongue pierced like some slut on spring break, for leaning into his cigarette and moaning, and thanking him, and really he just needs to mess him up, that’s all. He can put a limit on this. He can. 

His hands are shaking as he fits his key into the lock, and it’s all pretense as he lets the door close behind him because the moment Stu knocks he opens it and yells at him to get inside. So now Stu is standing inside his moms apartment in LA, the place that’s supposed to be Stu-free, supposed to be a fresh start and his heart stutters a little. 

For a second he sees himself later, sick to his stomach with the memory of him here, not just an imagined image overlaid but an actual memory of him, and it hurts so bad that he wants to shove him right back out the door. 

But he doesn’t.

“...Billy?” His name on Stu’s tongue. It sounds tentative, pleading maybe. As always it’s bait and he can feel the snare tightening down on him. Stu is nothing if not a good hunter. 

“Sit.” He manages to find his voice, jabbing a finger at the chairs around the dining room table as a plan starts to form. 

Because Stu needs a lesson, right? Billy needs catharsis and Stu needs a lesson. He makes a beeline for his moms liquor cabinet, it’s not the most well stocked but she’s always got vodka and that’s enough for his purposes.

“Yes, sir.” Stu’s snickering because he has no idea what’s coming for him, and Billy feels his mouth pull into something that could be a grin. And yeah, his dumb gay dick is hard but what's new? “Who’s your lawyer by the way? Your dad?” Stu’s talking fast, sounding a little unsteady like he’s jacked up or nervous, and god, he missed that sound.

“Take your shirt off.” He ignores Stu’s question as he turns back to face him, uncorking his bottle of Absolut. 

Stu’s pink, getting pinker as he gets closer and it makes the scars stand out even more. Pretty, he’s thinking, that’s so pretty. And Stu looks a little drunk already, empty behind the eye with his hands at the hem of his shirt even though he hasn’t taken it off yet. He’s too busy openly staring. Leering. It feels nothing like getting leered at by Mickey. 

“Shirt.” Billy repeats. “Off, now.” He tries not to sound like he’s starving but he really is. 

Stu blinks, then he seems to come online and starts to pull it off, only it sticks. He winces, lets out a grunt and peels it away from the burn a little more cautiously. It’s still pink in the middle, red getting darker, almost black at the outer edge, like a bullseye. It’s bleeding, must have gotten ripped open when he unstuck it from his shirt. Billy doesn’t even realize he’s biting his lip. 

“What’s the booze for, man?” Stu sounds giddy, eyes wide and hands gripping the edge of the chair. “Gonna get me drunk?” Billy doesn’t bother responding, he just pushes Stu to lean back,  “Don’t gotta do that, I’ll spread my legs either way- MOTHERFUCK!” 

Stu screams as harsh alcohol soaks the wound. His hips buck from the shock of the pain, clear liquid running down his chest and stomach as Billy rights the bottle. For a second his gaze catches on the B, and it’s even paler than it was at Christmas. 

God, he wants nothing more than to grab a knife, any knife, but that’s not a line he should cross and even in his heated state that’s obvious. The realization is chased out by a fresh lick of flame though and his heart is racing, his fists are clenching and Stu is breathing through his teeth, still gripping the chair. 

“H-holy shit,” Stu’s voice is rough, eyes still squeezed shut. There are wet streaks on his cheeks and the sight of it has Billy’s dick straining against his jeans. “Mmph, fuck, baby…” Jesus Christ.

“Don’t get excited pervert, this isn’t foreplay it’s first-aid.” He’s not actually sure if this is the way you're supposed to treat a burn, but it’s not like he gives a crap. This is an excuse to make the asshole cry.

“You sure?” Stu giggles, loose and pain-drunk. 

So Billy presses the pad of his thumb against the burn and Stu yelps like a wounded dog. Like a badly wounded dog, and shit, it’s really loud and Billy’s slapping a hand over his mouth as quickly as possible.

“Shut the fuck up or my neighbours will call the cops.” Stu just nods and whimpers against his palm. Ugh. It’s stupid hot. 

It’s like, really, really hot so he’s not in his right mind when he props a knee on the chair between Stu’s thighs. Good boy, Billy’s thinking, and he almost says it out-loud before he catches himself. He can’t be doing that anymore. No matter what else he lets himself do today the good boy shit and the b-cuts would be a step too far. 

He steels himself with a sharp breath through the nose, and he lets go of Stu’s mouth. 

“Is first-aid s’posed to get you hard?” That’s the first thing this idiot says, and he punctuates it by grinding against Billy’s thigh. 

He can feel him, the heat and length that he knows so very well by now, and god, he missed it, he missed it so much. Fuck. So now he’s just letting Stu hump his leg and he’s even started biting his lip again because apparently he doesn’t have an ounce of self control. When he catches himself he makes up for it with a backhand, and Stu’s head whips to the side after the crack of impact. He shudders, thighs squeezing together against Billy’s leg for a second before he looks up again.

“You know what you’re doing,” Stu’s breathless, grinning, that one blue eye bright, and it’s like a challenge or something, like he’s already sure he’s going to get what he wants. 

“I don’t think that burn is clean yet.” Billy snaps, covering Stu’s mouth again before tipping the bottle and pouring out significantly more liquor than he did the first time.  

Stu screams into his hand, eyes going wide and tearing up as the real one rolls back. The fake one is a pretty glassy white, drilling into him as always. Shit. Stu’s breathing hard again, shaking and pretty much drenched in vodka. His stomach glistens with it, lean muscle flexing as he exhales. The trail of hair running up from his briefs drips with it too, and Billy is rapidly losing the plot because he’s shifting to kneel between Stu’s legs. 

“Oops, spilled some.” That’s an understatement and Stu starts to snicker but his breath cuts as he leans in and licks over the wound. His tongue burns on the taste of vodka and iron and of course. Of course he wants more now.

He’s fully hard at this point, the lack of contact is starting to ache and Stu is eager, willing and almost infuriatingly good at making him cum. It’s a terrible idea and it would be a massive step back. He should really stop this while he still can, kick Stu out and deal with his stupid boner himself. 

Only the moment he’s alone it’s going to get dark. 

The moment he’s alone he’ll be taking the consequences of his actions point-blank to the face, even if he doesn’t go further than this. He doesn’t know who he thought he was kidding, nothing he’s done today has been safe for him. He hasn’t been on solid ground since Stu showed up, and he tipped himself into the quicksand when he put his cigarette out on his stomach. 

So fuck it. Can’t get any worse, right?

“I’m not doing this here.” If he sounds furious it’s because he is. 

Stu’s pupil dilates as he says it and he’s on his feet almost as quickly as Billy is, at his heel all the way into his room. He’s almost expecting him to pounce the second he’s got the door closed but he doesn’t. He just waits, standing in the middle of Billy’s new room shirtless, wet, and breathing hard. The burn looks angry and Billy hits his limit. 

It takes one step to close the distance, a second to shove him back onto the bed, and then he’s licking over that burn again.

“Ah!” Stu’s hard dick ruts against his chest as his hips buck, and it’s stupid but it has Billy’s breath going shallow. “Holy f-fuck that hurts…” Stu’s laughing. He sounds delighted.

“Yeah you really shouldn’t have walked into my cigarette.” He’s smirking, way too excited and barely aware that he’s toying with the tab of Stu’s zipper.

“Nah man, best decision I made all day.” He’s snickering as he says it but it’s obviously earnest, which is fucking annoying. Everything is always so easy and fun for Stu, it’s never easy for Billy. 

He slaps his palm down against the wound.  

“Mmph!  Sh-shit,” There are tears springing up in Stu’s eyes again. “Fuck, I wish I could suck your dick right now-” He whines like a total whore, and the sound of him is a chain around Billy’s throat, his wrists, pulling him in and tying him down. 

“If you want something you should ask nicely-” It’s meant to be stern or condescending or something but he’s almost embarrassed about the way he sounds right now, he’s pretty much all the way hard already and he hasn’t been touched.

“Ugh, No, like-” Stu huffs like a frustrated puppy. “I can’t.” He sticks out his freshly pierced tongue. 

Right. Goddamn it. It does look sort of swollen. It’s not like Billy’s uncomfortable hurting him but for some reason he doesn’t want to mess with this. Possibly because it looks really good. Fucker. 

“Sorry this hole’s outta commission, guess you’re gonna have to use the other one.” Stu’s smirking, looking up at him, and any disappointment he might have felt about the blowjob denial is immediately wiped out.

“Then get your fucking pants off.”  Billy’s already yanking at those stupid cargos. It’s been way too long since he fucked Stu in the ass, when even was the last time? The night they killed Casey?

“Men only want one thing,” Stu’s giggling wildly, lifting his hips and scrabbling to push his pants down.

“You’re an idiot.” It’s hard not to laugh with him, but it feels wrong for some reason. Like laughing is a mixed message, like he should be staying cold even as he pulls Stu’s ugly ass smiley face boxers down. 

It’s hard not to warm up when his dick springs free too, bobbing in his face like it’s excited to see him. And god it’s just a body part but it still has his mouth watering, still has him licking his lips as he lets the heat of it rest in his palm.

“You still wanna fuck me though.” Stu’s reading his mind again.

It’s not like he can deny it so he doesn’t bother. He just glares, shoving Stu’s fuzzy blonde legs apart, and there it is. God. It looks so impossibly tight, every time, and he knows from experience how warm it is, how it squeezes and holds him when he buries himself-  

“Lube in my pocket,” Stu half-slurs, sounding almost bashful. Maybe it’s because Billy’s staring at his asshole like it’s a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow as he digs out the lube. Honestly, how was he ever kidding himself about the homo shit? “See something you like, dude?”

“I see a fuck-sleeve,” He’s trying to sound dismissive but he can’t stop staring as he grabs one of Stu’s legs, hiking it up to spread him open. “-and I want to get off.” The heat in his voice is unmistakable as he rushes to tear the lube open, squeezing some out and rubbing it in with two fingers before pushing in with one.

“Oh shit,” Stu groans as he pushes in a little further, and even just this, just one finger and this soft, tight, heat has him feeling dizzy.  “Y-yeah,”  Stu’s dick jumps against his stomach. 

“You open up easy-” Mutt. No, don’t go there. “Macher,” He really does, it’s like he was actually made to take dick. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s only let Stu fuck him in the ass twice, but his body’s never just accepted it the way Stu’s always has. Then again, apparently Stu practices. “You fucking pervert,”

“Hah, but you’re hard for me, aren’t you baby? What’s that say about you?” Stu’s started rocking back on his finger, he’s panting and grinning and he’s probably close to stretched enough, so Billy adds another to wipe the self-satisfied expression from his face. “Holy f-fuck-”

“It says I have horrible taste in men.” He’s snickering, barely thinking until he’s already said it and then he sort of wants to punch himself. 

“So you like the way I taste-”  Stu’s smirking the moment he’s got enough composure to speak, and that’s a good enough reason to smack him across the face again. 

“Shut your fucking mouth-” It’s not like Billy needs a reason to hit him more, so he goes for an encore on the backswing. 

Stu’s ready for the first one, giggling and squeezing his eyes shut before it hits, but the second earns a gasp. All of it has Billy thinking more of that, so he starts pushing into the spot that makes Stu’s good eye roll back until both of them are white. He looks like he’s possessed, head falling back, dick twitching and leaking against his stomach as Billy fucks him open on those two fingers. To be fair Billy feels pretty damn possessed too.

“Told- hah,” Stu interrupts himself with a broken moan. “-told you, you couldn’t stay away,” Jesus fucking Christ. There’s this wild heat rushing over his skin, so hot that it almost blurs his vision.

“You-” The rage chokes him for a second. He shouldn’t even have to say this. “I did stay away, you followed me home!” His fingers haven’t stopped moving, If anything he’s going harder now and Stu’s letting out these little grunts, gripping at the sheets.

“You- Nnff, you videodromed me in the alley man, what was I supposed to do? Sides’ you coulda’ stopped me, but- ah, yeah baby,” His cocky ass response breaks to a moan as Billy pushes in with another finger. That makes three. “You opened the door for me-” 

“Stop.” Billy snaps, blood rushing into his face so fast his head spins.

“You told me to come in-”  Stu just keeps going. He’s bragging, being a brat just to get a reaction and Billy can’t actually stop himself from giving it to him. It feels like a slow motion car crash and Billy’s thinks he’s about to take a header through the windshield.

“STOP!” He shouldn’t be yelling but he doesn’t know what else to do, he just needs him to not be saying this bullshit-

“You- missed- me-” Stu pants out the words on beat, grinding back against Billy’s fingers like he’s putting on a show. An infuriatingly good show.

“You’re such a piece of shit,” He’s drowning in the heat under his skin and the pressure in his skull and the slick, rhythmic sound of his fingers in Stu’s ass. “I fucking hate you-“ I hate how I sound when I say that. Why am I like this? Why am I like this-

“Yeah mmf,” Stu groans, heavy on arousal, smiling because he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care if Billy hates himself. If he loses his stupid faggot mind- “Goddamn, love you too, baby!” He says love like it’s nothing, like it’s so damn easy, like it just drips out of him, like it doesn’t come out like vomit and burn everything on the way up.

It’s gut-wrenching.

“I hate you-” Billy is rasping, throat aching like the words are made of sandpaper as he slaps his hand down on Stu’s new burn one more time, and Stu shoots all over his own stomach. “What the fuck?” 

He’s still got three fingers buried to the last knuckle and Stu is clenching around them, letting out a broken cry and looking pained because he probably is. Billy’s palm is still pressed down against the wound, ropes of cum splattered across his fingers.

“Holy- hah, holy shit dude, that hit me like a bomb…” Stu lets himself slump back, breathing hard and laughing loose. 

Billy isn’t laughing along.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were about to finish?” He’s whipping the cum off his fingers, smearing it on Stu’s discarded cargos and ripping at the button on his jeans to yank them down along with his underwear.

“Ahh… snuck up on me,” Stu giggles, gaze bleary but still leering as Billy pulls his t-shirt over his head and throws it aside. “I’m not yours though, right? You don’t want me-” He’s laughing as he says it, biting his lip like he’s flirting, and Billy is squeezing out the last of the lube, slicking himself with a few careless pumps of his fist. “So why should I care when you want me to cum?” 

Godamnit. Billy’s nowhere near gentle as he grabs those narrow hips, nowhere close to patient as he rolls him onto his front. He’s thinking I don’t want to look at your face right now, but he’s still seeing it behind his eyes as he plants two hands on his lower back to push in. 

“Oh fuck,” Stu gasps at the intrusion before arching back into it. “-Missed that,”

His voice is half muffled in the sheets and Billy’s still wired with anger, but he’s also kind of just trying not to cum immediately because holy shit, he really forgot what this feels like.

“B-Billy,” Stu’s whimpering and he’s bottomed out now, hips flush against ass, fingers denting scarred skin, turning it red where his grip anchors him. Stu’s panting again, tipping his face to the side so one pink cheek is visible, so at least Billy’s not the only one feeling a little overstimulated. “Hah, fuck, was joking before, by the way- m’still yours, no matter what you say.” Billy can only see the glass eye but it feels like it’s staring straight through him. “So use me.”

“Fuck,” He doesn’t mean to say it outloud, doesn’t mean to sound so broken as he says it but he can’t do anything about that so he’s dragging his hips back and slamming back in. I’m yours so use me. 

“Ah!” Stu’s crying out, rocking forward in the sheets.”God, s-so good,” 

“Told you to shut up-” Billy growls like those sounds haven’t been the score for every wet dream he’s ever had, like the sheer heat of the body wrapped around his cock isn’t shooting raw electricity straight up his spine. His hips move on their own, rocking in, picking up the pace, desperately chasing the pressure building inside him. 

“Kinda- fuckin’- hard!” Stu’s voice is raw, cutting out to the beat of their skin slapping together. 

“Well it’s not going to get any easier,” He pauses, all the way inside, and grabs the back of Stu’s head to push his face into the blankets before he lets loose.

“MMmf!” Stu’s still loud as hell but it’s at least a little better. Billy’s groaning too though and there’s no way to swallow it, with the new position Stu’s squeezing down on him so much harder than before and it’s so good, so much it almost hurts. 

“God,” He grits it out and his jaw aches because he’s been clenching it like he’s biting down on something, and fuck he should be, fuck, he wants to rip Stu open. “Yeah-”

“Uunff!” Stu’s all muffled cries, shoulders and neck flushed red. The longer Billy pounds into him, the redder his ass gets too. 

With the way he’s had Stu pinned down he hasn’t been able to move, but the moment Billy shifts  his hands from the small of his back to his shoulder he starts humping back on him, riding him from the bottom. 

Stu’s got one hand gripping the sheets, fisted so tight that the scabs across his knuckles stand out in sharp relief, and at any other moment Billy would be curious about those but right now his dick has usurped his brain almost entirely.

“Mf- mf- mf- mf-” He’s moaning to a rhythm again, and together they’re like a broken metronome, relentlessly speeding up. 

“Ah, shit,” Billy’s hips stutter as his body tenses reflexively and all at once he realizes he’s way too close. He forces himself to slow when he’s all the way in, just breathing hard, staying buried and just rocking into Stu’s ass, barely pulling out an inch before he pushes back in. 

Billy’s stomach clenches from the feeling and he has to actually stop, so he ends up collapsing down over his back, letting go of his head at the same time. Head freed, Stu immediately turns it to the side and takes in a ragged breath. 

“Fff-fuck!” He squeaks, eyes squeezed shut. 

He’s shaking, skin beading up with sweat and fair enough; fully hilted he knows his dick is pushing up against the button that turns Stu’s brain off. Billy snickers, letting his head drop so it rests against the back of his neck. 

“You gonna cum again? Just from getting fucked in the ass? Haven’t even touched your dick you fucking fruit,”  The taunts are so warm on his tongue that they don’t even sound like insults anymore.  

“Billyyy….” He keens like porn and it has Billy’s mouth watering, so he bites. “Ah!” Stu shouts, loud. 

Billy rushes to get a hand over his mouth and he’d be telling him to shut up too if his own mouth wasn’t full. Instead he digs his teeth in, grinds into that spot inside him as he whines into his palm. Fuck, it’s not like he’s doing any better, this angle it has him shuddering too, breathing carefully to hold himself together just a little bit longer.

“Touch yourself, you sick fuck,” His mouth is right next to Stu’s ear when he says this and Stu huffs into his hand, face somehow flushing even more.

Stu’s letting out a broken little sound as he pulls back enough for him to slide his hand under his stomach, and the moment Billy sees his arm start to move he thrusts in hard. 

“I’m-” Stu tries, but his voice cuts immediately. Billy doesn’t bother to warm up again, he doesn’t have the restraint for anything less than a bruising pace and already it’s rushing up, that tense heat in his gut building, overtaking him. “Bil-Billy, m’not gonna last, I-” Stu cuts out again, sounds like he’s crying and he’s definitely begging. 

He’s begging to cum because he knows who owns him.

“Yeah,” Billy’s growling, ramping up to the end and completely insane, “Cum for me,” Mutt, good dog, good boy- “Freak,” It comes on so fast that it almost shocks him. 

It’s this electric jolt low in his stomach, then another and another as his hips twitch reflexively and he empties himself entirely into Stu. He stays buried until the grip of Stu’s body turns to overstimulation, and his arms shake as he pulls out. He doesn’t even realize Stu came too until his vision clears and he looks down to see him panting, right hand splayed out in the sheets and slick with cum. 

“God…” Stu groans, looking blissed out with his eyes closed, barely moving at all. 

This is when the panic starts to set in. 

Because Stu’s in his supposed-to-be-safe bed in LA. Because they just had sex, because he’s just ruined weeks of work trying to detox himself from this bullshit and now he’s back to square one, only it’s worse. Square negative one. 

“Get the fuck out.” Billy hasn’t even started putting his clothes back on but if Stu stays another minute he thinks he might actually shatter. 

It’s already coming on, that cold, shaking hysteria and he really can’t lose it in front of Stu. Stu can’t see that. He can’t. Because that’s not something Billy could recover from, so he needs to get him out of here, right now. He’s expecting anger like he got in Stu’s bedroom back at Christmas, or maybe sadness, disbelief- really anything other than a bitter sigh. 

“Yeah, ok.” Stu’s tone is dry, resigned as he pushes himself up and starts pulling his clothes back on. “Of course.” He’s half laughing when he adds this part and it feels like a slap. 

He’s zipping up his pants and Billy is still standing there naked like an idiot, but it’s not like he can move. He’s just trying to keep breathing, trying not to start ripping his hair out, trying not to scream. 

“Taking my tip though.” Billy’s been staring at the floor until Stu says this, and when he looks up the bastard is smirking, mean. It’s the way he smiles when he’s making fun of someone and it doesn’t help that he’s holding Billy’s underwear. “You owed me.” He says, fucking winks and shoves the briefs in his back pocket as he heads for the door. “See you in a few weeks or whatever.” He says it like he knows for sure, like Billy is a goddamn joke. 

Then the bedroom door closes behind him and he’s gone. So yeah.

 Billy is totally, 100% fucked. 

Chapter Text

When Stu woke up this morning he didn’t think he’d end up walking around downtown LA with cum dripping out of his ass, but here he is. 

Five minutes ago Billy was inside him. So on the one hand? He won. Hands down, he might have been the one taking dick but the fact that Billy touched him at all shows he came out on top. Billy folded and he folded fast . He can’t stay away and it didn’t even take months this time, it happened in a matter of weeks. Stu was undeniably right all along and it’s so satisfying to see him coming to face that. 

On the other hand he might have Billy’s underwear in his back pocket but get the fuck out isn’t like, the dopest thing to be told seconds after your bro cums in your ass. Also his ass isn’t not sore, but he can barely feel that through the screaming of the cigarette burn and the mounting ache of the piercing. Feels like his tongue has its own heart beat, and it’s getting so swollen now that he’s not sure he’ll be able to talk if it gets much worse. 

Godamnit Billy.

He was so amped up before he could barely string two thoughts together, but there’s a bone deep exhaustion settling in now and his feet feel like they weigh fifty pounds each. Even to himself he sounds dead when he calls Tammy to ask for a pick up outside the top story building. Not like he could get her to pick him up at Billy’s place, too much to explain there.

“...Dude?? Earth to Macher!”  He blinks and there’s Tammy, pulled up to the curb, waving at him out the drivers side window. “The fuck, man? I’ve been trying to get your attention for like a full minute.”

“Uh-” He makes himself move for the passenger’s side, trying not to wince as he folds himself into it. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” She sounds confused, which isn’t surprising because he’s not doing the best job acting normal right now. “Are you ok? Did the news lady like, put a gun to your head or something? Cause you seem-”

“Look at my tongue,” It’s a good excuse, and when he sticks it out Tammy’s eyebrows pop up.

“Shit that’s messed up, mine’s nowhere near that bad.” Someone else might have sounded more sympathetic but Tammy is snickering at him, which is comforting. “We’ll stop at a gas station and get you a popsicle. Now put your seatbelt on, you big baby.”

“You’re such a bitch,” He’s muttering, buckling himself in, and he can’t really blame Tammy for openly laughing at him, his tongue isn’t cooperating at all and it’s making everything sort of muffled and clumsy. 

“Sorry I didn’t catch that, you need to enunciate.” She’s smirking as she pulls back into traffic. 

“I said you’re a bitch ,” He’s almost smiling now. It’s not that he doesn’t still feel like shit, but Tammy’s a good distraction. 

She makes him put on a Hole CD and proceeds to talk about how hot the bass player is for the next ten minutes, but he’s not exactly all there mentally. Mostly because he’s still in Billy’s new bedroom. It didn’t look like him in there, kinda blank and sad in the same way that Stu’s new room is. Billy moved to LA, yeah, but he hasn’t really moved himself in. 

There’s a part of him that loves it, feels cocky as hell because it’s just more proof that Billy’s playing a losing game. There’s another part of him that pictures him alone in that room, with his plain white walls and his new tapes, and that part aches. Cause at least Stu’s got Tammy, right? Does Billy have a Tammy? Somehow Stu doesn’t think he does. He’s always been picky about people, slow to warm up. Honestly if Billy did have a Tammy out here he would probably be jealous, but the idea of him on his own just makes Stu feel sad. 

And he still had those bruises all over his legs, the ones Stu noticed at Christmas.

By the time they get to Tammy’s sister’s place for the night he’s back in his head. He’s doing his best to be his usual fun self but by the time it’s just him and Tammy on the couch watching Beavis and Butthead she’s starting to give him looks. 

“Holy shit is that a hickey?”

Fuck. He forgot about that.

“H-ha, yeah turns out Miss Daye is-” Tammy doesn’t even let him finish his weak-ass lie.

“Ok no, you obviously didn’t bang the news lady, you would have been bragging about that.” She’s not wrong, and he just doesn’t have the energy to try any harder at convincing her otherwise. “Also she’s like, a beautiful professional woman, she doesn’t want to get with you . No offense.”

“Ok, can you drop it?” He sounds colder than he means to.

It’s one thing for him to tell her he’s into dudes now too but it’s another to tell her the dude is Billy. Not that he’s embarrassed of Billy, fuck no, the guy is a catch. But Billy would lose it if someone found out about him and he’s already close to the edge right now.

Tammy is quiet for a few long moments, just staring at him. He can see it out of the corner of his good eye even though he’s still looking at the TV. 

“Stu…” She sounds careful. “Was Billy at that meeting?” 

He feels the blood drain from his face as he turns to look at her. He should feel angry, should have some sort of resistance to put up but he's just tired and sore, and he doesn’t want to be alone anymore. 

“Yeah.” It’s a long sigh, and he feels his shoulders slumping as his body gives up. 

“Holy shit? Ok… I mean now that I’m thinking about it it’s kind of obvious.” Tammy’s eyes have gone wide, but she doesn’t exactly look surprised. “I mean I’m not gonna lie he kind of seems like a dick but he’s like, really pretty.” Yeah he’s definitely both of those things. 

“Please don’t tell anyone.” He sounds pitiful in a super not-sexy way.

“Stu, I would never . Literally never-” She shakes her head at him like its nonsense, then she pauses, chewing her lip for a second. “Ok, look, I’ll make it even. Y’know Linda Palmer?” Her cheeks are sort of getting pink, which is a rare look for her. 

“The cheerleader?” He doesn’t mean to seem shocked, it’s just that Linda Palmer’s got a great big quarterback boyfriend and an even bigger rack.  “God damn , look at us pulling 10’s-” 

“Oh shut up Macher,” She punches him in the arm and it's a lot easier to breathe than it was a few minutes ago. Funny how that happens. “I’m a 10 too, she’s lucky she gets to grab my ass every once and a while.” Tammy does have a great ass, he knows from experience. “We’re uh… kinda off right now though.” She drops her gaze to her lap and the look on her face is so familiar. 

“Fucked up,” He says, because it is. “I’m uh, kinda in the same shit.” 

“And he’s still sucking on you like that?” She nods at the hickey. “Is he auditioning for a role in the next Anne Rice adaptation?”

“S’not that he doesn’t want me,” Stu finds himself shrugging, trying not to feel defensive. “He just... has a hard time. He always comes back." The excuses fall out of him like a sigh, and there's so much recognition on Tammy's face that he has to look away. "Sucks waiting it out, but it's fine or whatever.”

“Dude. Why are they like that? Makes everything harder.” She’s being serious but the joke is right there. 

“I dunno, I like it when Billy makes things harder.” He’s laughing at himself by the end of the sentence and it’s only a second before Tammy’s joining him. 

“Yeah I bet you do, gutterbrain- oh shit wait, did that bastard beat me to your ass?”

She’s teasing him but it’s obviously meant to keep him up and it’s working. So yeah, Stu doesn’t feel quite so terrible after that. Would he rather be falling asleep in Billy’s bed than on Tammy's sister's couch? Of course. But it’s a damn good alternative. 

Besides that someone knows now. There’s something so surreal about that, like it doesn’t feel possible that anyone else could find out without everything falling apart. At the same time it makes everything more real, him and Billy. Someone else knows, and that means it exists outside the two of them. It means he can finally brag. 

Then there's the fact that if Billy found she’d be on his hit list. Makes his heart race a little, but not the fun way. Makes him think of Tatum. Makes him wonder what would have happened if he’d said no when Billy brought her up.

But the past is the past and he’s not living in it. 

He wakes up the next day and his tongue is so much worse. It’s swollen up so bad he can barely talk and he decides to pass on breakfast. The cigarette burn isn’t much better, he’d bandaged it up the night before but it rips open again when he goes to switch it out for a fresh one. He’s not mad about it though. The last time they hooked up Billy only left him with a bruise, so it feels like progress that this shit is definitely going to scar.

When Tammy drops him off back home Leslie immediately notices the new piercing, it’s kind of impossible to hide when he tries to talk. She gets him more popsicles and she laughs at him when he whines about it, but she says it will go down soon. Apparently her roommate Claire got her tongue pierced and it swelled up worse than Stu’s, so she’s sure it will be pretty much back to normal before the end of the week.

It’ll be alright, his parents won’t be home until Friday so it's not going to give him away immediately. He’s not dumb enough to think he can hide it forever and he’s not generally opposed to something that might make his moms eyes bulge, but it’s more fun to piss people off intentionally. When they get pissed at you for doing something you actually wanted to do it just sucks and right now he’s not in the mood to get yelled at. He’d rather show it off at their 4th of July party or something, unleash a little mayhem in front of witnesses.

He mostly stays downstairs with Leslie on that first night back, but when he finally heads up to bed there’s this weird heaviness to it. Because again, Billy should be here right now. He was really trying not to get his hopes up, but apparently some part of him still thought one crack in the shield could be enough to bring him home. 

It was enough the last time he tried to distance himself, before he cut himself into Stu’s chest. 

This is bigger than a bruised ego in the men’s room at the movie theater though, this one is going to take time. It just sucks that it’s happening right now, after they won. It’s senior year, they’re supposed to be figuring out what they’re going to do next September, where they’re going to go. Back then he always imagined Billy studying film-making or something, but he never really bothered to imagine what he might be doing at the same time. It’s not like he’s just going to sit around on his ass, right?

College wasn’t really on the books for him anyways. He could get in somewhere with his dads connections but he doesn’t see much point in that. Before he figured he’d just follow Billy wherever he went, he assumed Billy would want him there. It’s not like they really talked about that in specifics though. They talked about the plan in specifics and the rest was just a general when we get out of Woodsboro. It was a problem for a later day.

They’re meant to be planning the sequel. So what kind of planing is Stu supposed to do on his own? He’s a pretty good at shit like this but he’s not so good at the self direction part. So now he’s here, alone, and it’s not like he’s got any ideas. He lays on his bed staring up at his ceiling and he tries to come up with at least one way he can be useful while Billy doesn’t want him, but there’s a chasm opening up inside him and he can’t hold on to a single thought that slips into it. So that sucks ass.

He knows he’s really not supposed to smoke with his tongue so freshly healing but there’s only so much he can take before he’s out on the roof lighting up. It’s too cold for the sweats and hoodie he’s got on and the wind makes it hard to actually get his joint lit, which makes sense with the storm coming. They were hyping it up on the radio earlier, he’d heard it when they were driving back into town. Everyone's all freaked out since the crazy ass floods they had out in Sacramento and Sierra after New Years but he’s not too worried about it here. Woodsboro’s built up on a hill so they don’t tend to flood that easily. 

He heads back in after his herbal refreshment and at the very least he feels somewhat distracted. He throws on Alien for some background noise and drags out his sketchbook, and he doesn’t think about the storm again until Jonesy comes on screen and he remembers, Jonesy. She’s not a super big fan of storms, Stu used to find her in the garage pretty much any time it rained, and if she hasn’t found someone else’s doggy door to crawl through yet then at best she’ll end up soaked and cold. And if the storm really is as bad as they’re saying?

It’s already starting to sprinkle as he straddles his bike, and it’s steady all the way there. The wind is going sideways though, howling through the trees on either side of the road and pushing back against him as he tries to move forward. 

He’s calling out for her as soon as he pulls onto lane. It’s coming down pretty hard so he has to squint through it, and he’s glad he put on his rain jacket but his sneakers are soaked through. He’s digging into his pocket for some of the cat food he brought when he realizes he really hasn’t thought this out. Like, how is he supposed to get Jonesy home with him? She’s rarely let him pick her up and it’s not like he’s got a crate for her or anything. He’s going to have to figure something out because he can’t leave her out in this. 

He’s yelling her name, stumbling around the tarped up foundation of the new house. The ground is already soft and slippery with mud and it doesn’t take long for him to wind up on his ass. So he’s freezing and tired and even more sore than he was before, and he was probably an idiot for coming out here. With his luck he’s gonna get hit by lightning or some shit. That’s what he’s thinking until he hears her yowl. She sounds like her soul is being ripped out of her little body, and he'd be worried if it wasn’t the exact sound she made when the doggy door was blocked and she wanted in.

He’s gotta hand it to her, she’s got impeccable timing. He’s just picking himself up when he actually spots her under the tarp, soaked with her ears flattened out to the side. 

“Heyyy , Jonsey girl-“ He’s about to try and lure her in with food, but she’s sprinting at him before he can even reach out to her. She doesn’t wait for him to bend down, she just starts climbing up his leg, claws hooking into the fabric of his pants and the skin under it. “Ah! Crazy bitch I woulda’ picked you up-” She’s screaming at him trying to get under his raincoat, and he’s doing his best to help but she’s kicking and scratching the whole way. 

He manages to wrangle her under his hoodie so she can poke her head out the neck hole and she sort of settles down, which is good because the sky is freaking out. It’s really coming down, sheets of rain slapping him, wind whipping his raincoat back against his body. 

It’s at his back on the ride home and thank fuck for that, he’d be driving into the ditch trying to steer the bike with her held up in one arm. He can feel her little body shaking, water from her fur soaking him under the raincoat. He’s not feeling much better, his fingers are buzzing, pruned from the rain and cold, his legs are burning, his one good eye is blurred and his teeth are starting to chatter, so just keep moving, just get home, just keep moving, just get home.

He feels like he’s about to collapse when the house finally comes into view and he gets a second wind, pushing hard for the last block. He ditches his bike in the bushes and rushes inside just as a crack of lightning throws everything into high exposure. He slams the door behind him, and Jonesy takes this as a sign that she doesn’t need to keep hanging out inside a wet sweatshirt so she starts kicking, which makes it a lot harder to let her down. He ends up dropping to his knees so she can tumble out at a more reasonable height, and she hits the ground on her feet in a shower of droplets, eyes wide as she looks around. 

She’s crouched low like she’s about to take off but she doesn’t, she stays right by his feet as he pulls off his sopping shoes and jacket. She stays at his heels all the way up to his room, dripping all over the carpet as he changes into dry stuff. Then she follows him down to the kitchen for a dinner of leftover roast chicken bits, picked carefully away from the bone.

She seems a lot less stressed once she’s been fed but she absolutely does not want to be touched, hissing and flattening her ears at him when he lifts a hand in his general direction. She’s still soaked and he’s really not sure what to do about that, he even considers Leslie’s blow-dryer but it would probably only freak her out more so he just puts a towel on his bed and coaxes her onto it in the end.

“You wanna watch somethin’ kitty? I watched most of Alien before you got here but we could watch Aliens-” She blinks at him, flicking her tail. “I know you’re not in it too long but it’s a pretty good flick.” She squints, making a disapproving one-note sound. “Did Billy tell you it’s bad? Cause he’s wrong, he just doesn’t like action movies.” She seems to be taking his word for it because she hunkers down a little, dropping her head to rest on her paws. “Yeah cool, I’ll put it on. You’ll like it.” 

She kind of does actually watch the movie with him, or at least she doesn’t fall asleep. She never really slept in the house before either, at least not that he ever saw. She was chill enough to let him give her scratches but she never took her eyes off him. Maybe she just doesn’t feel safe enough to sleep in the house yet. That’s alright, he doesn’t mind being patient, he has lots of practice. 

He’s going to need to figure out the pissing and shitting situation though. He realizes that the next day when Leslie wakes him up, looking furious and asking why there’s a tiny piece of crap on the kitchen table. She’s a lot less hostile when she actually sees Jonesy and realizes how cute she is but she also reminds him that their parents aren’t going to like it. He’s not super worried though, he’s been getting away with a lot lately. Turns out the near death experience gave him an almost endless supply of guilt to weaponize against them, and it’s more than enough to justify Jonesy. 

Tammy takes him to get cat stuff the next day and Leslie lectures him about how he needs to take her to the vet to make sure she’s healthy, and it all gives him something to focus on other than the Billy shaped hole in his life. In the end he doesn't even have to be all that patient, because his arms might be covered in little scratches and bite marks, but by the fourth night she’s sleeping in his bed. She likes to curl up on the pillow he thinks of as Billy’s and there’s something sort of funny about that. It’s like she knows and she feels bad for him or something.

When his parents get home at the end of the week his mom predictably flips her shit about claws on furniture and hardwood floors. His dad is still on a work call when he walks through the door, so he’s distracted and apathetic at most. That works in Stu’s favor because it’s not all that hard to talk his mom down on her own- I get lonely ma, Leslie can’t be around all the time and most of my friends are dead. That’s all it takes. 

The near-death guilt works less on his dad, but he really doesn't care about the cat now that his wife isn't shrieking about it. He mostly seems bent on getting Stu to nail down his post-high school plans. Says a bunch of shit about how he’s a man now and he needs to step up because the world won’t wait for him. He’s so serious about it too, and Stu can barely pretend to be listening.

He does manage to redirect him with Sunny Daye’s contract though. His dad’s not a lawyer but he deals with shit like this enough to know a thing or two about contracts and he doesn’t seem too mad about this one. He makes a few little changes and they fax it off to top story the same day. 

Sunny responds fast, doesn’t push back on any of his dads switch-ups, and just like that he’s signing a life rights agreement. For once Big Bob seems kinda proud of him, says a bunch about how much he’ll make off the book and whatever comes after it. That’s the Macher way, kid. We take lemons and we make lemonade. Stu’s pretty sure it’s the opposite but whatever. After that he’s right back to getting hounded about college anyway, his dad’s never been pleased for long. 

They’re talking about it at school too, Tammy’s really excited about it cause she’s like, a smart person. His teachers keep bringing it up to him, talking to him all gentle and telling him that if he wants to start college next year then he’s going to need to start applying. It’s like they think he’s fragile now or some shit, they would have been yelling at him about it last year. It’s just like that now that his face is all ripped up, people have always treated him like he’s dumb but the pity is new.

He knows what his grades are like and they do too, he’s far from the top of their class. It’s not like he was actually trying before though, and for real, was he supposed to finish high school and just turn into someone else? Get a business degree like his dad, join the old man’s frat and graduate in four years with a wife? Not likely, he’d rather have died under that TV. 

He’s going to have to do something though, and lapdog/serial killer unfortunately isn’t a job description. He’s complaining about it (minus the serial killer part) when Tammy decides to drop the answer in his lap. 

“You should just come to WCU with me.” She hasn’t gotten her acceptance letter yet but they both know it’s only a matter of time. She’s laying along the edge of the fountain in the quad in a way that’s almost enough to give him flashbacks. 

“As if.” He snorts- West Craven isn’t exactly Harvard but the competition’s still pretty stiff. “Not unless the ol’ man makes a real generous donation.”

“Ok rich boy,” He can tell she's rolling her eyes even though she’s wearing sunglasses. “It’s not the only school there though, you should check out the film tech programs. Like, you could find out what the fuck a Best Boy does. Or learn how to do special effects shit.” 

It’s this big goddamn lightbulb moment, cause why didn’t he think of that before? He does a little research after school and yeah, there it is: the Friedkin Academy of Cinematic Arts and Technology. It’s a little wordy but all he needs is a GED and some completed forms and then he could be learning how to make it look like someone got gutted. He’s already pretty good at doing that for real, and if movies make psychos more creative then why can’t psychos make movies more creative too?

He starts applying, not just to Friedkin but other film tech type programs too, and it's kinda exciting. He didn’t know school could sound exciting. Maybe it’s just that he’s never been to a school about movies before, but maybe it’s also that he's not exactly the same guy he was at the start of his senior year. Maybe he hasn’t been the same guy since he woke up in the hospital, and maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world.  

So Stu’s the kind of guy that wants to go to college now. He’s got a girl best friend, a spoiled orange cat, a tongue ring, and yeah sometimes he still can’t tell how far away a table is so he drops a glass on the floor, but it’s nothing like it was in the fall. These days he almost never thinks about tying his shoes, and the people at the physical rehab center say it won’t be long until he can take the drivers test to get his license back.

The only thing that doesn’t change is Billy. 

He doesn’t call and he won’t empty his stupid voicemail. The smell of him has long faded from Stu’s sheets and the briefs he stole off him in LA, but he’s still jerking off with them. The burn on his stomach is just a rippled little circle, and every time he lays on Billy’s bed he thinks about his own blood and cum, dried on the sheets under his back, and he wonders when Billy will be back to find it. In dark moments he wonders If he’ll be back to find it. 

He knows he will, it’s how they work. But how long is it going to take?

Some days are better than others, some days Billy’s absence is just a nagging ache in the back of his mind, but some days it’s this gaping wound in the center of his vision. April 2nd is one of those gaping wound days. How could it not be? He hasn’t had a birthday without Billy since he first moved to town. 

The actual day is a Wednesday so it’s just gifts and dinner with Leslie and for once, his parents, but Tammy makes it a whole thing on the weekend. She gets Leslie in on it and throws him a big ass party once the rents are off again. It’s sweet of her but he doesn’t feel like he’s actually there. Even in the middle of his packed out living room all he can see is old walls and people whose bodies were never recovered. 

And Billy, always Billy. 

He does the only thing he can, gets drunk and high enough that he can’t see straight and ends up on his knees in front of the toilet with Tammy patting his back. He passes out in his bed with a bucket on the floor next to him and the room spinning around him like he’s in the Nightmare finale. 

He wakes up the next morning to a churning stomach, a pounding headache, a purring Jonesy, and a laughing Tammy telling him that he called Johnny Jarvis an evil chode muncher for finishing off the rum. He really doesn’t remember any of last night if he’s being honest, and as much as he wants to laugh along with Tammy he just doesn’t have it in him. She gets it though, she’s good like that so they waste the day getting stoned and watching shitty movies on the lifetime channel. 

She heads out around 7 that night, it’s a Sunday so whatever. He’s so hungover and so high that he feels like he’s on the verge of passing out again anyways, so he just tucks himself into bed with Jonesy on his lap and Tremors on screen. Against his better judgment he’s about to light another joint when his cellular starts ringing. He doesn’t bother checking the number before he answers, figures it’s probably just Tammy calling to tell him she left something behind.

“Sup, bitch?” It’s how he always answers the phone with her. She’s not immediately telling him to fuck off though, and that has him sitting up straighter. 

“Who the fuck d’you think you’re talking to?” Holy shit. Holy shit . For a second Stu’s throat closes up, but he forces himself to swallow and speak. 

“Billy? ” His voice jumps, going high. There’s a loud sigh on the other end.

“Jesus Christ, calm down. ” Billy’s tone is low and tight, Stu can almost picture the way he must be holding himself right now. He’s probably doing the finger thing he does when he’s nervous, which is as cute as it is sort of annoying. Cause for real, he’s the one that keeps saying he doesn’t care about any of this, why the hell is he nervous? “We need to talk about what’s off limits for the top story interviews.”

“Oh-” Stu hadn’t actually thought of that, but it’s probably a smart idea. He kinda got away not saying much to the cops because of the head injury, it’s really not that hard to exaggerate memory loss. By that point they weren’t suspicious of him at all, they already had Billy and the tape so it’s not like he really needed a story. “Uh- yeah, yeah, that makes sense. What'd you-” 

“Not over the phone, fuckbrain. ” Billy huffs out a breath. “...I’ll be in Woodsboro next weekend,” He doesn’t sound entirely steady when he says it. He sounds embarrassed, and a grin spreads over Stu's face. 

“Yeah?” He can hear his own smile, it’s just that this is the best birthday present he could have hoped for. 

“Don’t -” Billy cuts himself off. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” It’s not a real question, Stu knows exactly what.

“You’re so fucking annoying. Goodbye .” The line clicks dead but he hasn’t lost his smile. 

Sure, in an ideal world Billy wouldn’t have hung up so soon. In an ideal world they wouldn’t have to talk on the phone because Billy would already be here, but in the world they’re in he will be here. Next weekend.

Stu lets himself flop back on his bed, doesn’t even realize he’s giggling until it turns into full on laughter because it’s the only way his body can process the feeling. Billy’s coming home, Billy called me , Billy sounded embarrassed and it was so fucking cute. Time feels stupid slow for the rest of the week, it's all just anticipation at this point. He can’t stop thinking about it and Tammy keeps teasing him about it. 

“Damn Macher, are you drooling? The dick must be spectacular.”

The dick is spectacular, and he’s not afraid to say so. He actually kind of can’t stop saying so now that he has someone to talk to about it, and Tammy ribs him for it but he knows she’s eating up the gossip. 

By the time the weekend rolls around he’s pretty sure he’s insufferable. Billy didn’t actually tell him when he’d be showing up and he hasn’t answered his phone any of the 10-20 times Stu’s called to ask, so what? Is he just supposed to hang out at home all weekend waiting for him to show up? He bikes by Billy’s place after school on Friday just in case, just because he’s way too hyped, but there’s no sign of anyone other than Hank. He even pops in through the window to take a look around and it’s immediately obvious that Billy’s not back yet, nothing’s been moved since he was here last week. 

So in the end he does actually end up just hanging out at home waiting for him to show up. Both his parents and Les are away this weekend so there isn’t anyone around to answer the door if Stu's not home. What if he just decided it was too much work? What if he just went back to LA without even giving Stu a chance to make him snap again? 

He’s pretty sure the Polaroid alone could get him halfway to the breaking point though, so at least there’s that. 

Still, he doesn’t want to waste any time Billy might be willing to give, so he’s not going to mess around. If he’s being realistic the odds are high that he won’t show up until Saturday or Sunday, he would have had school today too and Nancy probably wouldn’t want to drive him back that late in the day. So he actually doesn’t have anything to do but he’s also so hyped up that it’s probably unhealthy. Jonesy won’t even chill with him because his foot keeps tapping on its own, and apparently that annoys her enough to have her biting at him and walking away with her tail twitching. 

That’s why he ends up calling Tammy over. In the back of his mind he knows it’s a bit of a risky thing to do. Billy doesn't like her, Stu’s not stupid. He’s never liked any of the girls Stu’s hung out with whether or not he was hooking up with them, and Tammy stuck her finger up his ass before Billy ever thought to, so she doesn’t stand a chance. But Stu’s lonely… and bored. And restless. And maybe he’s thinking that it would be pretty satisfying to get Billy a little jealous, so now they’re watching Leprechaun 4 and he’s feeling a lot better. 

It’s not as good as the first one if he’s being honest, but he does like the part where the leprechaun ghost travels up a dude's pee stream and possesses him dick-first. Stu’s been possessed dick-first many times, but he’s never had a violent little man come out of it so he’s pretty grateful for that.

After the movie ends they’re both starving so he heads to the kitchen to hunt through the fridge while Tammy does a little channel surfing to find them something to watch. Turns out there’s nothing to eat, so he’s just dialing the pizza place when he hears the doorbell ring. His brain short circuits a little, for a second he’s thinking that the pizza’s already here even though he hasn’t ordered it yet, so when the pizza guy picks up on the other end of the line Stu goes: 

“Um-” He can hear Tammy getting up from the couch and heading for the door to answer it, which isn’t abnormal, she generally makes herself at home here because he’s sort of a terrible host if you aren’t Billy. 

“Oh! Hey Bi-” 

Billy.

Billy?

Of course he would show up now. It’s like, soap opera shit, right? Except in a soap opera Stu and Tammy might actually be banging. Either way there’s a brick of ice dropping into his stomach and a spike of heat shooting up through his chest. He hangs up on the pizza guy and drops the phone back onto the cradle.

“I need to talk to Stu.” Oh he’s mad mad, Stu can hear it before he even turns the corner to see him. 

“Hey man,” He might be a little nervous but mostly he’s so stupid excited he's about to start shaking like a small dog, and that’s all that comes through on the outside.

Billy is standing in the doorway, straight up scowling at Tammy. His eyes flick over her shoulder, and when they land on Stu that scowl heats into something that burns him under his clothes. 

“Uh-” Right, Tammy is here. “I was just on my way out! Bye Stu, nice to see you Billy- ” Smooth, Tam. In the periphery he’s aware of her sliding her shoes on, grabbing her coat from the hall closet, but he’s still looking at Billy. Neither one of them has blinked since they first made eye contact. 

Billy still hasn’t cut his hair and his bangs reach down near his jaw. The back is so long that it curls against the collar of his jacket and he’s got it half-tucked behind his ears. Fuck…

In the background Tammy moves for the door, glancing back to bounce her eyebrows at him before she slips out. And then it’s just the two of them. 

“What, so you’re fucking her again?” Billy spits, ripping his jacket off and shoving it at Stu’s chest. 

He’s so jealous, Stu hasn’t seen him so bad since Casey and this is definitely worse. There’s a muscle jumping in his jaw and he’s squeezing his fists hard enough to pop the veins on the backs of his hands, so he looks like pure sex. Stu’s biting his lip and it’s clearly not helping because Billy’s mouth is twisting even further.

“Tammy? Nah. Why’re you mad though?” He’s trying not to openly laugh as he hangs Billy’s jacket. “You don’t want me, remember?”

“I’m. Not. Mad. ” Billy’s almost yelling until he seems to catch himself. “I don’t give a shit, I just thought you had higher standards but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’d give it up to whatever desperate whore is willing to fuck you in the ass.” And that’s the sentence that cracks him, punches the laughter up through his chest so it pour out of him. “-The hell are you laughing at??” 

“I- Ha, shit-” He’s trying to say something, he really is but he can’t quite get it out and Billy responds by slamming a boot down on Stu’s socked foot. “FUCK!” It’s almost more startling than it is painful but it also does really hurt, enough to have his toes curling and his eyes scrunching shut when it hits. 

“Tammy fucking Beckett??” Billy roars, cartoonishly red in the face. There might as well be steam coming out of his ears. 

“Yeah you don’t sound mad screaming about her like that-” Billy stomps on his foot again, and he should have seen that coming, huh? He’s dropping down this time, clutching at his foot as the pain radiates up through his leg. Its so mind-numbing immediately that he knows it’s only a matter of seconds before the warm-horny-fuzzies set in. Billy should know better by now. “Fuck, man I’m telling the truth, I’m not banging Tammy.”

“Then why was she here?” Billy sounds like he's auditioning for an interrogation scene.

“I mean, she’s kinda my best friend right now.” It’s honest, but Billy visibly flinches when he says it.

“Best friend.” There’s something fragile about his voice and Stu feels bad for him almost as much as he thinks Billy might actually deserve it right now. “She’s your best friend? ”

“You left, Billy.” All at once he just feels.. exhausted. “Did you not think I'd make new friends when you ran away?”

“I didn’t run away you dumb fuck-” Billy’s snarling, throwing his hands up like he believes himself. He obviously doesn’t, and it’s just so dumb because it doesn’t matter if he ran away or if he just walked, Stu doesn’t give a shit about the specifics.

“I didn’t want you to leave!” His voice shoots up, raw and a little too loud. “You know that! M’not trying to replace you,” Billy has to know that right? Stu’s pledged his whole life away, how much clearer could he get? “Could never replace you, would never fuckin’ want to.”

“I’m not-” Billy’s voice comes out fast and almost frantic but then he cuts himself off, blinking hard and huffing out a harsh breath. “I don’t care, ok? I don’t care what you do.” It would hurt if he believed it. “You were a convenient hole but there’s a lot of those in a LA.” Ha. Fucking ha. 

“So what?” Stu’s on his feet again, he knows Billy better than to buy the taunt but it still has his blood pressure rising. “Are you tryna tell me you’re screwing someone else?” 

“What if I was?” Billy’s pupils are so dilated, and Stu’s fists curl into balls. 

“Then I’d kill him.” No question. 

“Could be a girl-” Billy’s eyebrows are pinched together when he says it, and it's such a flimsy response that Stu’s snarl cracks into a smirk.  

“No it couldn’t.” Maybe it’s mean to feel cocky about that, but he absolutely is.

“Fuck you!” Billy’s shoulders are hiked up, like they both don’t know he’s a total homo.

“Nah, you don’t wanna fuck me anymore, remember?” Frustration prickles hot over his skin. “So I guess you wouldn't care if I fuck Tammy, right? ” He can’t help it, it’s way too easy and Billy blows up immediately.

“You’re such a piece of shit!” His voice cracks but he’s obviously too far gone to be embarrassed. “What are you trying to do, huh? Are you trying to make me jealous? News flash, idiot! I don’t even think about you when I’m in LA!” He’s ranting, nose wrinkled, spitting like a vicious animal, and Stu wants to punch him, wants to kiss him so hard because its so stupid, and so unconvincing, but he’s trying so hard- “I only screwed you last time because you followed me to my apartment like a sad little stray, and now you’re, you’re breaking into my room so you can fucking bleed and cum all over my bed?? The fucking picture ?” Yahtzee. 

It’s over now, and by the look on Billy’s face, Stu’s pretty sure he knows it too. He just loaded a bullet with his own name on it, right into Stu’s gun.

“I just wanted to give you somethin’ for your collection.” He’s not even trying to act like he doesn’t know what he’s doing, and Billy freezes like a rabbit in his sights. Spit pools on Stu's tongue. 

“My what? ” Billy snaps but his face has gone white. Got you motherfucker.

“Your collection of pictures of me.” Stu’s grinning, he can’t hide it. He’s seconds away from his pin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-” Billy is panicking now and it's kind of delicious.  

“The ones in the shoebox you keep in the closet.” God, it feels good to say that, to watch his face flash red. 

“You went through my shit?” Billy's eyebrows are pushing down, he’s trying to get that anger back up but it’s not going to work. Stu knows how to diffuse him, and all he has to do is tell the truth. 

“I missed you. ” He means it with his whole ass and Billy’s mouth pops open, eyebrows tilting up. 

“God,” Billy shudders, blinks hard. “-you’re fucked up. ” He’s obviously trying to shake it off but Stu’s not going to let him 

“I know you missed me too.” And that’s it, he can see it the moment Billy’s shoulders drop.

“I… hate you.” Billy says it like he’s making a wish and then he jumps him. 

Stu’s almost surprised when their lips crush together.  He knew something was coming, he just thought he’d be the one to initiate it but Billy’s going full throttle, he can taste the rage as their teeth clack. There are hands on his chest, shoving, and then his back hits the wall. Billy presses up against him, pushing a knee between his legs. 

He didn’t kiss him last time and it almost felt pointed, but he’s kissing him now, holy fuck. Didn’t miss me huh? Don’t want me? Stu’s giggling into his mouth, grinding against his thigh until he bites down again and sharp iron spills between them. 

Stu’s half choking on a moan and Billy’s grabbing at him like he thinks someone’s going to try and take him away. His head is spinning, blood rushing down, cock already straining in his cargos as teeth find his jaw, his throat, latching on and digging in and he’s moaning, and shuddering, and damn. If he thought Billy seemed hungry last time, he thinks he’s straight up starving now. He’s possessive like he was in the bathroom after Candyman 2, only now there’s so much more on the table than a little light choking. 

Yeah, he’s gonna have to thank Tammy later. 

Billy’s trying to push his shirt up so he pulls it off, dragging in a sharp breath as blunt nails rake down his chest. Billy’s mouth is at his collar again, biting into the muscle that runs along the top of his shoulder and his whole body tenses reflexively, dick throbbing. Stu’s barely breathing until Billy unlatches and the blood rushes back in with the pain. 

He manages to open his eye long enough to look down and see the purple-red hickies blooming up under his skin. That’s when he realizes Billy is marking him. Marking him in a way someone else will be able to understand, because cuts, cigarette burns, split lips and other bruises? Those can all be passed off as pure violence. But everyone knows what a hickey is, he’ll bet there’s one on his throat too, above the line of his T-shirt where he won’t be able to hide it.

“What’d you do with my picture, huh?” He’s hoarse from the pain, delirious from the fact that Billy’s basically humping his hip, but he pushes the rest out anyways. “D’you jack off to it?”

“Fuck you,” From the way Billy sounds those are the only words he’s got left.

“Did you cum on it? Did you cum all over my cock?” Billy’s growling against the side of his neck, shoving his hands down between them to unbutton Stu’s pants. “Was thinkin’ about you when I took it,” Stu breathes, “Bout you fuckin’ me with a knife,” Billy gasps, his hands stuttering, so Stu takes advantage of the moment and acts on instinct. “Makin’ a new hole,” He gets a grip on those narrow hips and lifts, enjoying the rageful little sound that Billy makes as his feet leave the ground and his ass hits the hallway table. “Filling my heart with cum-”

“So gross ,” Billy groans but he’s still yanking his own shirt over his head. 

God. He’s rock hard when Stu finally pulls him free too, he's leaking. He looks so goddamn good that Stu can’t stop himself from reaching out to swipe a thumb through the liquid for a taste. He didn’t get any last time. He deserves it. 

“Ah, ” Billy lets out a near-pained sound and that alone has Stu's dick twitching as he pulls it from his unbuttoned pants. “What’d you do with my underwear, huh perve?”  Billy snickers, breathless and obviously trying to turn the tables. “Were you fuckin’ sniffing it? D’you jack off with that shit?”

“Hah, yeah, s’exactly what I did-” Stu’s giggling, “-oh god ,” Billy grabs his dick out of his hands, grip tight, perfect like always. “S’the way you smell, gets me so hard it hurts. Everytime you leave I break into your room, lie in your bed, cut myself n’ wish it was you, fuck my hand n’ wish it was you-“

“Fucking creep,” Billy growls and then his dick is rubbing up against Stu’s as his hands come to grip around them both.  “D’you hear yourself? You sound like a stalker.”

“Aahhh, god-“ Stu can’t keep himself from pressing up into those hands, barely aware of how tight he’s still gripping at Billy’s hips. “Y-you love it though-“ you love me. “Y’know m’not gonna stay away, baby, you don’t want me too, not really-“

“Mmmff- fuck,” Billy's pace falters a little, but that’s fine, Stu lifts a hand to help.

Stu has to agree with that, the sight of the them flushed, hard, and moving together… might be the gayest thing they’ve ever done. Taking a dick in the ass is somehow less gay than rubbing against each other like this. Feels incredible too, has him drooling, has Billy’s eyes squeezing shut as they both start moving faster, breathing harder, gripping tighter. The friction is near painful when Billy spits into their grip, and Stu can only stare open-mouthed as it slicks them up. 

He glances up at Billy’s face and sees him looking so broken after all that denial, so pretty with his messy hair and his dark eyelashes. If he wanted someone else he wouldn’t have any trouble. Stu’s well aware of the fact that other people want his Billy, they always have. Billy’s never wanted other people though, but apparently he can’t stop himself from wanting Stu.

He's never felt so urgently wanted in his entire life.

“Your ass is mine, ” It comes out harsh and low as it rolls up through his chest, involuntary like an instinct. Billy snarls, legs coming up to wrap around his hips. “You fuck someone else, I gut em’,” It’s a promise. It’s a goddamn biological necessity and Stu’s just a dumb animal.

"Shut the fuck up,” Billy pushes it out through gritted teeth and yanks Stu down to his level, nails biting into his skin as their lips meet.

He’s rapidly losing the ability to think so shutting up isn’t all that difficult. He’s more focused on the feeling of Billy’s teeth and the low sound that comes out of him when his tongue meets the metal in Stu’s mouth. It’s already a lot but now his grip on Stu’s dick is tightening, his thumb running up over the tip just as he thrusts up, and Stu’s stomach clenches hard in reflex.

“Bil- mmmph, Billy ,” Stu sounds totally destroyed, only has enough brain power to know he’s begging. “M’gonna f-fuckin-“

“Cum,” Billy speaks against his lips, brow furrowed, hard focused, and that’s it. “Do it.” He’s already rocketing toward it, the feeling gathered inside him, impossibly big and swelling bigger on the power of Billy’s words until it takes him over.

His hips stutter, his dick jerks, as he shoots. And shoots, and shoots.

“Jesus Christ,” Billy’s voice is distant, but he’s still so close, forehead pressed against Stu’s. 

He’s still rocking against him too, though he’s not going nearly as fast as before. Stu hears himself whimper, shudders from the over-stimulation and gets a laugh from Billy. It’s his favorite sound, second only to the sound he makes when he cums. 

Stu hasn’t felt this good in so long.

The last time they had sex it was hot but Billy was keeping him at an arm’s distance, and now? Well he’s letting him a whole lot closer. He’s laughing, kissing him, touching him, and Stu’s pretty sure he could live on that forever if he could get enough of it. 

He’s feeling warm and soft when he finally opens his eye, and then he’s treated to the sight of his cum dripping down Billy’s chest and stomach and he thinks his knees might give out. 

“Holy shit…” There’s, like… a lot of it. Like a porn amount of cum. 

“You made a mess.” Billy’s looking up through his bangs as he says it, gaze hot. “So clean it up.”

As if Stu needs an excuse to lick this man. 

He starts on a thick glob that had been rolling down towards Billy’s hip bone, licking up the trail it leaves and moaning through it. He’s still buzzing too, still shaky from the orgasm and running with half a brain cell, so all he’s thinking is mmm and more as he works over Billy's chest, licking up his own jizz like its a gourmet meal. 

He’s not sure what possesses him but he lets his tongue flick over one of Billy’s nipples, giggling a little when he gets a gasp and a grumble. Billy’s not even touching him right now, he’s got both hands white-knuckling on the edge of the table like he’s trying to keep them down. For some reason that makes Stu want to bite, so he does. Not super hard or anything, but he hasn’t exactly bitten one of Billy’s nipples before so maybe it shouldn’t be surprising when he jolts.

“Ah!” Billy yelps. “The fuck are you doing?” He’s glaring but he’s also gone red and his dick is just as hard as before, tip poking into Stu’s chest as he leans in. 

“Mhhmhmhm sorry,” He might be giggling a little. “Guess I got a lil carried away huh?” 

“F-fucking freak-” Billy’s glare flicks away as Stu starts moving back down, mouthing over hot skin and dropping to his knees. 

The table is actually exactly the right height to put his face level with Billy’s dick in this position, and how long has it been since he got his mouth on it? Maybe not since Christmas, which is an absolute tragedy. The thought of all that lost time sort of hits him in the chest, aches a little. 

He finds himself leaning forward, pressing in between Billy’s thighs and just kind of rubbing his face against his dick. Billy growls, thighs squeeze in against his ears in response to the stimulation, which is pretty much the best thing ever. Safe, even if it’s not really, even if Billy’s going to snap back to his bullshit later and leave. 

At least for right now though, Stu’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

He lets his eyes fall closed and breathes in, filling his lungs with this smell he’s been chasing for months in Billy’s bed, in his fucking underwear. Really it’s just the smell of his skin but it’s got Stu’s mouth watering so he opens his mouth and gets to work.

He’s humming into Billy’s warmth when he feels those hands in his hair again. He lets his lips drag over the head, wetting it with spit, and Billy’s making all these quiet grunts and huffs like he’s trying to hold something in. Probably because he is. That thought has Stu smiling as he presses his tongue up under the crown. He parts his lips, takes it into his mouth, sucks just a little, and-

“Ah -” The sound Billy makes is the highest praise so he sucks harder. He works his tongue in circles and that grip in his hair tightens, pushing him further down. “Fff -fuck,” Billy finally lets himself moan, rocking his hips up and hitting the back of Stu’s throat. “Yeah ,”

“Guuh -” Stu gags, feels his eyes brim with water, and pushes himself back down. God I love sucking cock. 

Fucking is great but there’s something about giving head that puts him in the zone. Like sure it’s hot, sometimes doing it makes him cum hands-free and that’s sick as hell, but also doing it right leaves you messy, drooling, maybe crying, hair messed cause someone was yanking at it… fucked up. Stu loves getting fucked up. 

Billy pushes all the way into his mouth again and he’s ready this time so he takes him better, takes a little more and a little more on every thrust. At this point Billy’s totally fucking his mouth, holding him down and pushing into his throat, pushing until Stu’s nose bumps into his stomach every time he bottoms out. His last breath was a while ago and his fingers are tingling but that’s ok, he doesn’t need to breathe when he’s doing this. His lungs burn and his stomach jolts but he stays down, stays where Billy wants him.

It’s really just a more violent form of choking.  Instead of squeezing off his air supply from the outside, Billy just punches into him over and over, plugging his airway directly and bruising his throat in the process.

He’s barely aware of the fact that he’s grinding into his own palm now. He’s already spent, he’s not even hard anymore and it almost hurts, but he’s still so turned on that he can’t stop himself. His head is starting to swim, his vision is darkening around the edges and his throat is spasming as he chokes on the love of his life, and just as his eyes are starting to roll back Billy hits his finish.  

“Mmmmff- fuck, fuck -” His voice is raw like a fresh cut, dripping down the back of Stu’s throat as he struggles to swallow. Billy stays deep as he rides it out, grinding into him as his vision does black, and- 

He pulls out and the air rushes back in so fast it feels like breathing glass. Stu is coughing immediately, suddenly aware of what must be tears on his cheeks and drool on his chin but he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face if he tried and Billy is looking down at him, breathing hard, and gripping the table again. He doesn’t blink for what feels like a full minute, then his eyebrows pull down and he furiously starts shoving himself back in his pants. 

“Move.” He’s growling, sliding down off the table and stepping over Stu to grab his shirt and yank it back on. He's clearly trying to making a beeline for the door but nah, not this time.

“Where ya goin’, man?” Stu gets to his feet and turns around, throat aching. It’s that nice kind of ache though, the proud one that reminds you where your mouth has been.  

“I’m leaving, you vacant fucking hole-" Vacant fucking hole sounds like a horny-ass pet name but he’s not going to point it out. “What, did you think I was gonna stick around and cuddle ?” Billy snarls, mouth curled viciously. It would have got to him once, but ironically Stu only needed to lose an eye to see through it.

"Obviously I’d love to spoon your ass, but nah,” Stu doesn’t bother wiping his face yet, Billy’s the one who made the mess so he’s going to make him look at it. “We’re s’posed to be getting our story straight, remember?”

He goes bright red. He’s doing that thing where he sort of hunches up when he’s angry, same way Jonesy does. Stu might be smiling.

“I hate you. So. Much.” Billy hisses, then he takes a visible breath and starts taking his jacket off again. 

Stu’s definitely smiling.

Chapter Text

The moment Stu leaves his apartment Billy punches his wall and it really fucking hurts, but it doesn’t even come close to the feeling of his chest caving in. 

Fuck. He punches his legs instead but that doesn’t work either, and neither does slamming his fists into his temples. So now he’s just aching, pulse pounding inside his skull as he shoves his face into his pillow and screams his throat raw.

You fucked up. So. Bad.

“Idiot!” It doesn’t sound like his voice, he just doesn’t have control of his stupid mouth. He doesn’t have control of anything . 

You fucked up you fucked up you fucked up you fucked up-

Stu showed up and he folded like, immediately. He bargained himself all the way to hell and the worst part is that it felt incredible. Now he feels like nothing, like absolute rotten trash. 

He took your goddamn underwear.

Billy’s face burns and his spent dick twitches and everything is wrong. The deep, deep ocean he’s been trying to drown himself in is boiling, cooking him from the outside-in, and he needs to do something. Do fucking anything you worthless fuck.

His ears fill with the sound of his own rushing breath. He’s going to break if he stays here any longer so he runs, grabs his jacket and his smokes, and rushes out of the apartment. He barely stops to lock the door behind him.

Told you, you couldn’t stay away, you told me to come in, you missed me-

Billy is a joke all over again. Stu shows up once and he loses every ounce of progress he’s made and more. Stu knew it too, he rubbed Billy’s face in his own failure, he humiliated him and then he just walked out like it was nothing. Like it was easy.

You told him to leave??

Yeah, because Stu isn’t going to let him move on. He’s a hunting dog bred to bite until it’s fatal, and as long as he still wants Billy his jaws will be locked. 

Mm’ still yours, no matter what you say-

Billy sucks in a lungful of nicotine and walks faster. His free hand is flicking and he’s got no idea what his face looks like. He feels like he’s falling out of himself, like loops of entrails slipping out of a slit-open stomach. He’s wrong, everything is wrong and he hates himself and his life is coming apart at the seams, he hasn’t had control of a single goddamn thing since he stepped out of that kitchen.

He’s not fully aware of it but his legs are taking him to the theater. When he gets there he just walks inside like this was the plan all along, and maybe for some part of him it was, because he hates everything right now. He hates himself, he hates Stu and he hates the world for making him into such a pathetic worm, so now he needs to do something awful.

Sometimes it feels like the world want s him to do awful things because Mickey is right there, leaning against the concession stand talking to the popcorn girl. 

Suddenly Billy feels like he’s got Termovision and he’s locked the fuck on. 

“ Mickey .” He barks. It gets a satisfying jolt out of them both, but when Mickey turns around his face splits into a grin. A very punchable grin. “Need to talk to you,” Billy’s grabbing the dickhead by the upper arm as he says it. 

A plan is coming together now, if you can call it that. It’s less a series of steps, more a mission statement. Prove him wrong. Hurt him as bad as you can.

He gave up too easy on New Years, that’s painfully obvious now. So what if the kiss didn’t turn him into Molly Ringwald? A cock is a cock, hands are hands, and he’s not a little bitch. He’s not going to let Stu humiliate him again.

“Oh yeah, for sure your highness, no problem-” Mickey snickers like he thinks he knows what’s about to happen, only he really doesn’t and Billy doesn’t bother with a comeback as he drags him down the hall towards the theaters. It’s also the hall that leads to the men’s room. 

He took your underwear- 

The shame is rising up his throat again but he burns it down with rage. He barely has the presence of mind to glance around for a witness before he pulls Mickey inside and shoves him into a stall. There’s a second where he’s in a different bathroom with someone taller, and now he wants to burn himself down too. Do something awful. 

“ Hah , holy shit-” Bastard hasn’t stopped laughing, he’s falling back against the wall as Billy’s hands land on his collar. “Y’know you should call the Guinness people, you might have a world record for mixed signals.” 

“You’re an idiot - ” Billy hisses. Do something awful.   “Do you want to get off.” It comes out rough, flat and without inflection so it doesn’t even sound like a question. 

“Oh shit?” Mickey’s eyes go bright. “Yeah, fuck yeah-” He’s leaning in, looking at Billy’s mouth. Nope. 

“I’m not kissing you, you fucking queer-“ Billy pushes him away, barely able to hear Mickey’s laughter above his own thoughts. Because wait, are you really going to do this? “Put your hands against the wall and keep them there.” Yeah, he’s doing this. He’s already pushing one of his knees between Mickey’s legs. He’s not going to bitch out again. 

“Ooooh Bossy!” Mickey ignores the order to throw his hands up in mock surrender.

“If you don’t shut your mouth and do what I say, we’re done.” Billy snaps. “ Hands on the wall .” 

“Don’t worry final boy, I wasn’t complaining,” The bastard is still grinning. His eyes have gone hooded as he makes a show of putting his hands back against the wall. Like an asshole. “Do your worst, I’m at your mercy.” 

It’s not that Mickey isn’t hot. Objectively he is, and he’s a freak too so he’s checking multiple boxes. What’s missing? If Stu was here he would-

Stu is the reason you’re here you idiot. Break his heart. There’s a second where he almost recoils. Almost. Then he remembers the way Stu looked at him right before the cigarette burn, and he drops a hand to squeeze the bulge in Mickey’s pants.

“Ahh-“ The dickhead groans. He’s already pretty hard and for some reason that’s really annoying. “Y’know I thought I scared you away on New Years,” He’s breathing a little harder but he’s still entirely coherent as Billy tugs down his zipper. Stu wouldn’t be.  “You seemed pretty freaked out when you ran away… Awww, that wasn’t your first time kissing a guy, was it?” Mickey is baiting him. Piece of shit. It’s more than clear from the way he’s smiling that he already knows the answer.

“You think you’re so smart,” Billy lets go of Mickey’s collar and wraps a hand around his throat instead. He squeezes, and that part does kind of feel good.

“God, yeah,” Mickey tips his chin up immediately, like he was waiting for it. “Choke me baby-” Baby. He can only hear it echoed in Stu’s voice. 

“Not your fucking baby,” He feels his fist slam into Mickey’s stomach. 

“Urk-” The bastard lurches, knocking his forehead into Billy’s shoulder and then tipping his head back. He’s still grinning. “Ha-ah, goddamn you’re a freak, Loomis! This how you’re coping with all that girlfriend trauma?”

“You’re the one getting off on it-” Billy pushes his knee up between Mickey’s legs to shut him up, and he definitely does it hard enough to be painful but Mickey moans anyway. 

“Hha, yeah-” This motherfucker is clearly breathless from the punch but he’s still got shit to say. Billy unceremoniously shoves a hand into his underwear and yanks out his dick. “ Ah - sure am, how could you tell?” Smartass. 

“I’ve had bigger.” There’s not a lot of guys as big as- stop it, that’s not helping. Billy blinks hard.

“Seen a lotta dicks, huh?” Mickey apparently doesn’t give a shit about the insult, he’s just giggling again and Billy is done.

“ Stop. Talking. ” He moves his hand back to Mickey’s throat and squeezes again, not nearly as gentle as he was the first time. The grip he’s got on his dick isn’t particularly gentle either.

“Hhggh-” The asshole lets out a crushed sound, throat working against his palm. “Yeah, just like that-” He croaks it out and then his mouth just falls open. He’s already leaking as Billy starts jerking him off.

“ Fuck you ,” Billy snarls. Because here’s the thing… he still isn’t hard. 

He should be. You don’t hate this , he thinks desperately . It's not like there’s no satisfaction in the power, in the feeling of soft tissue under his palm or knuckles. The problem is that it’s not the right kind of satisfaction and that feels like a death sentence. What the hell is wrong with you? Just keep trying, it’s going to click.

He could tell himself it’s because he got off like an hour ago except that he’s had a damn tight turnaround time in the past. He could tell himself it’s because Mickey’s dick is smaller than Stu’s only that’s absurd, right? Billy can’t be that much of a faggot, his dick is about the same size. If nothing else, the way Mickey’s reacting to all of this should be doing it for him. It’s just not. 

You should have known better than to hope it might.

“Fuck you,” Billy hisses again, fist moving faster as his grip tightens down. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you- ” He repeats it compulsively but Mickey’s busy rocking into his hand, probably not even listening. 

The bastard’s face is going red fast, darkening, veins bulging and unfortunately Billy probably shouldn’t kill him right now, should he? There’s no way he’d get away with it after the scene he made in front of the popcorn girl so he forces himself to loosen his grip a little.

Mickey just gasps, coughs, fucks his fist a bit harder, and for some stupid reason Billy is thinking about how he got hard in seconds the first time he choked Stu, way back in 1995.

He was depressed as hell that night, nowhere near horny, and Stu still got him so messed up that he had to go get himself off in the bathroom. Even though he still thought he wanted to bang Sid. Even though the world was coming down around him.

You’re going to break his heart.

“If you wanna finish you better do it before I choke you out.” It rips out of him and everything is moving too fast, his brain is moving too fast, the ok sound of the air vents is too loud, and his jaw aches from the way he’s been clenching it. “I’ll leave you here, pants down on the dirty ass floor, is that what you want you sick piece of shit?” Mickey’s dick jumps against his fingers like he appreciates the threat.

“ Uh huh -” Dumbass is nodding yes, drooling, pushing his throat harder against Billy’s hand. Fuck it. He slams him back against the stall again, fingers digging harder into the sides of his neck.   

“You don’t even know what I’m saying-” You’re not Stu, you’re not Stu, I don’t know what I’m doing-  “You stupid fucking-” Mickey cums all over his hand. “Fuck!” Billy shouts, yanking his hand away. 

“Fuck you, you fucking fuck…” Mickey half-slurs, bleary eyed and smiling lazily as Billy frantically wipes the cum off on his uniform shirt. 

“Don’t quote Blue Velvet at me,” He’s blinking fast, half-blind from the static humming behind his eyes as he trips back in his rush to put space between them. Why are you panicking? “And don’t talk to me on Monday!” 

“Thanks for the handjob, dude!” Mickey fills the bathroom with laughter again and it feels like it’s closing in on him just as he reaches the exit. This motherfucker is always laughing. “We should do this again somet-“ Billy slams the door behind him. 

His brain is just jagged noise until he’s outside the theatre again and then everything inside him crashes down. This was a mistake. Billy’s whole life is a mistake. You gave the creep a handjob and you couldn’t even get it up. Stu is going to hate you for this, and it didn’t even get you off you goddamn maggot. Was it worth it? 

He’s on the verge of hysteria by the time his feet hit the sidewalk. He lights a cigarette with shaking hands, but his stomach turns on his first inhale and he ends up in an alley just like he was earlier. This time he’s crouched behind a dumpster waiting for his stomach to empty itself and his brain is screaming so hard he can barely hear himself retch.

Isn’t that what you wanted? Don’t you want this? You want him to leave you alone- 

Shit. 

The static rises up again with the bile and he’s almost desperate to be numb. He needs it to carry him home, needs it to keep him from slamming his head against the brick until it starts leaking. His brain barely works at this point and his nerves are rushing, hands tingling from too much nicotine and too little blood sugar, and he just lets his legs carry him home.

His mom tries to talk to him about the bottle of Smirnoff on the counter when he gets in, asks him if he’s been drinking. As if she has any right to act like an authority since she decided not to be in his life for the past two years. He says as much but he’s not sure if it’s worth it. If nothing else at least now she looks the way he feels.

Guilty . You feel guilty. 

He’s hated himself in a lot of ways. Sometimes it’s the kind of hate that has him punching himself, other kinds get him so amped up and desperate that all he can do is walk around smoking enough to kill a small child. 

Tonight is a different kind. Tonight the weight of it is so crushing that he doesn’t have the energy to walk or punch anything. He doesn’t even have it in him to get up for a smoke so he just ends up in bed like he did after Christmas, blankets pulled over his head.

God, you really suck.

Billy feels small and vile and completely broken. It gives him this cruel sort of clarity, cuts a window through the meat of his chest so all the rotten things he’s been hiding there start spilling out, and he can’t avoid them anymore. 

Right before Stu came out of his coma, Billy said he loved him. 

He said it again at Christmas, and he really, really didn’t mean to but he’s pretty sure he meant it both times. He tried to run away because he meant it and he totally failed, then he tried to get revenge and he doesn’t know if he succeeded but he knows he regrets it.

He’s not even sure why, it’s just this gut-deep wrong, like this droning alarm getting louder and louder, and he’s really fucked it up, hasn’t he? Like everything. He’s fucked everything up and now all he wants is to run away again, only further this time and without his mom. He would if he didn’t need that book. As pathetic as it is to admit, it’s kind of all he has left so he’s not going to be able to avoid Stu. 

Running away just isn’t an option anymore. Maybe it never was.

He really didn’t think any of this through, did he? A reporter has been interviewing them separately about a crime they committed together, and they never officially got their story straight after all those last-minute rewrites. He’s going to have to talk to Stu. He’s probably going to have to seem normal around him on camera eventually, Daye already told them she had a bunch of talk shows lined up to interview them after the book gets published, and he’s just made everything so much harder for himself.

He really should have considered that, and the fact that he didn’t just goes to show how far off his game he’s been this whole time. You idiot. Now he’s got enough energy to start punching his legs.

He already loses his shit whenever he’s around Stu, now he’s going to have to do it knowing what he did with Mickey. And Billy shouldn’t care, he really shouldn’t! He didn’t even do anything wrong, and since when does he give a shit about hurting Stu’s feelings? He does though, he cares so much that it’s making him sick.

His stomach turns again and he finds himself rushing for the bathroom, which really isn’t going to help his case against his mom’s accusations of alcoholism. There really isn’t anything left to come up, so he just dry heaves for a bit before he puts himself in the shower and does his best to burn a few layers of skin off. He just sits at the bottom, letting the spray soak him until his hands and feet get so pruned up that he wants to cut them off. 

It sort of helps. At least he just feels tired and numb again, and it’s enough for him to fall asleep.

His brain won’t actually let him rest though, of course not. He has this dream that he’s jacking the creep off in the bathroom again, but this time Stu walks in. In the dream Billy feels relieved at first, maybe even excited. He’s waiting for him to pull out a knife or a gun or even his fists but he doesn’t, he just stares. Billy can’t make out what’s on his face but he still wakes up with the blankness of it burned into his eyelids.

He has that dream a couple times. More than a couple. He has that dream for weeks bleeding into months and it makes it impossible to avoid thinking about him. He’s backsliding and he doesn’t know how to stop himself. 

He does his best to get back to business as usual, though. He ignores Mickey at school and he focuses on his sequel. He’s sort of been coming up blank a lot lately so he needs to be putting in every spare second he has. The planning came so easily the first time around, it was the rest that was a challenge but this time he can’t even get past some rough notes and vague ideas.

He can’t see any of it behind his eyes.

But he’s trying not to focus on that. A lot of what he does these days is try not to focus on things. It's the worst on the weekends, you can only spend so much time driving around with your mom and at least during the week he’s got homework and shit. 

He’s so desperate for stimulation that he ends up getting a library card for the first time in his life, and he kind of feels like a nerd but also they have books on anatomy, forensics, screenwriting. Useful shit like that. He even finds a book of knife tricks, and honestly who would have thought the library would be such a great place for a serial killer looking for inspiration? 

Unsurprisingly he gets really into the knife tricks, even buys himself a training knife and starts practicing. It’s kind of the only thing that reliably clears his head these days so his hands are covered in bruises from the blunted edges. By late March he’s comfortable enough to switch from the blunt version to the sharp one. He bleeds when he messes up with this one, but it doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. It’s just more reason to focus, and as much as they hurt the nicks almost calm him down.

Today he needs to not be thinking about the fact that Stu’s birthday is coming up so he’s trying to master a rollover, one finger between the two sides of the handle as the blade spins around it. He’s got the spin down, he just keeps dropping it on the part where he has to re-grab the handle. 

He’s close though, he’s going to get it this time. He needs to, he’s been at it for an hour straight, his hands are starting to ache and he needs a win right now because whenever he gives up for the night all the bad parts of his brain will switch on.

He flicks the knife open for his last attempt, but he jolts and drops it when his phone buzzes in his pocket. There’s a second where it occurs to him that it might be Stu and his pulse starts to race (pathetic), but he doesn’t recognize the number. He almost ignores it but curiosity gets the best of him, and he’s not sure what he’s expecting but it’s definitely not some lady claiming to be Sid’s aunt Kate.  

She spends about five minutes apologizing to him for calling like she’s got some sort of guilt-by-proxy, so that’s pretty entertaining. It only gets better from there, apparently the Prescott house went to her and she’s clearing it out so she can sell the property. 

She says she’s planning on getting rid of it all unless there’s anything he wants. Then she blabs for a while about how she totally understands if he doesn’t want anything to do with it and she doesn’t want to take up too much of his time, and she’s sorry (again). It’s the funniest shit he’s heard in months.

It’s not something he even considered before but he likes the idea. It’s sort of like a serial killer’s tradition to take a trophy, right? 

He puts on his sad little final boy voice and asks her how long he’s got till she empties the place out. She tells him she doesn’t have a buyer yet so she’ll just leave Sid’s room untouched until he has a chance to come by. He’s actually smiling when he thanks her and tells her he’ll let her know when he’s coming. 

There’s a moment where he gets to feel like he got his win after all, but he only has to look down at his knife on the floor between his feet to realize it’s a curse as much as a blessing. If he wants his trophy he’s going to have to go back to Woodsboro. 

Yeah . It’s all fine and good to tell himself he’d stay away from Stu, but he knows it’s a lie. There’s no way. Christ.

He really just can’t even process that bullshit right now. Instead he just cracks his knuckles and picks up his knife. He does rollovers until two in the morning, and he goes to bed with bandages all over his fingers

He doesn’t stop thinking about Stu’s birthday.

It’s hanging on like a stain in the back of his mind, making him tense up every time it comes into view. It’s just that he’s never missed it before. There’s always been a party and he’s always been there. He can’t stop wondering what he’ll do this year, like, is he still going to have a party? Who’s going to be there? Shit, who does Stu even hang out with now? 

On the day itself Billy almost breaks and calls him, gets as close as dialing before his sense of self-preservation kicks in and he hangs up. The hell was he even going to say? Was he going to wish him a happy birthday like everything is normal? He can’t, so he turns off his phone, buries it under his mattress and picks up his knife again.

He makes it past the birthday but he doesn’t stop thinking about it. It’s just that he’s still going to have to see him eventually and he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to deal with that. The weakest part of him just wants Stu to show up at his door again. He doesn’t care if it’s locked, he wants him to break in and finish the hunt.

So that’s fucked.

He keeps catching himself bargaining about going back to Woodsboro and talking to Stu. He needs to visit for his trophy anyway, and then they can talk about the interviews. He'll be so normal and he’ll keep his hands to himself- except he won’t. Stu will say something hot or embarrassing and Billy will lose all sense of rationality and it will be over. 

Or Stu will somehow smell Mickey on him and it will be over in a different way. 

Don’t you want it to be over? He doesn’t know. He only knows that he feels like crap, so of course his mom decides to make everything worse. 

He’s in his room trying to work on the sequel when she drops the bomb. It’s a Friday night and someone in his class is probably throwing a party that he was invited to, but New Years was more than enough to put him off that shit. So honestly? His mom’s not interrupting anything when she knocks. He’s staring at a blank page in his notebook, clicking and unclicking his pen

“Billy? Is it ok if I come in?” He’s not expecting that, lately she just tells him dinner’s ready from the outside and leaves it at that. They haven’t been chatting a lot since the last blow-out. 

What are you supposed to do when you miss someone who’s right in front of you? What do you do when you’re still so fucking angry that you can barely talk to them without wanting to scream? 

“Yeah, come in.” Billy clears his throat. 

“Hi sweetie,” He can tell she’s nervous the moment she pokes her head through the door and it immediately has him on edge. “Can we talk for a second?” 

“Sure.” He says. We already are , he thinks. She moves across the room to perch next to him, right on the edge of his bed like she can’t just sit down. 

“Your father and I have been talking,” She takes a pause like she’s waiting for a response but he doesn’t have one.

He’s well aware they’ve been talking. He had to watch them getting along so disgustingly well over Christmas. It’s like he’s the only one who remembers Maureen.  

“With you getting ready to move out and go to college…” She’s wringing her hands. That’s her version of flicking fingers, but it still annoys him right now. “I was so lonely before you came to live with me, and I can’t do that again, I can’t -” She sounds hysterical for a second but she seems to catch herself, reel it in a bit. He can still see it in her eyes though. “-With everything we’ve been through, I really think it's time to leave the past in the past, you know? So we can be a family again.” She sounds like she’s pleading and he hates it.

“…what?” His tone is dangerously flat and she winces. He’s not even surprised, he just wants her to say it to his face. Just say it. Stop talking around it and say it.

“Well…your father and I have been talking about me moving back to Woodsboro, working through everything-” Yup, there it is. He knew it. 

“Mom, no -” His skin is already prickling and suddenly he’s on his feet. “Did you forget what he did? He betrayed you!” After everything , after leaving him alone, after what Billy did for her-

“Relationships are complicated!” She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears and it makes him want to break something. “People…people make mistakes sometimes.” Jesus christ.

“People make mistakes? ” It chokes out of him like a lungful of hot smoke. “He cheated on you mom! He treated you like shit-”

“He did, and he knows that.” She’s practically begging and he knows what’s next. Here comes the excuse. “We’ve been together for a long time, we have history together and I can’t just throw that away.” 

History. Yeah, a history of infidelity and abandonment. Billy’s fingers have tangled into his own hair. 

“History means everything, family means everything,” She says, and he almost scoffs. “When we nearly lost you it was a wake up call. Life is precious and it’s short,” Life is precious. Fucking hell. Life is precious and I killed people for you.  “ - and I want to give your father another chance.”

“That’s bullshit!” He’s too loud, he knows he is but this is just way too much. 

“Billy, please,” She speaks in this infuriatingly soft voice, standing slowly like he’s a child throwing a tantrum. “I know it might be hard to understand but-“

“No!” He cuts her off, heart thudding heavy in his chest. “It’s bullshit! He fucking hurt you, he knew what he was doing-” He’s shouting now and he can’t stop himself anymore. “He didn’t just trip and fall on top of Maureen Prescott!” She flinches again but it doesn’t matter, she needs to get it and she obviously doesn’t. “He hurt you so bad you abandoned me!” That one aches as it rips out of him.

“Oh Billy, baby-” She steps forward but he’s so far from ready for that.

“No.” He barks. “Don’t fucking touch me.” She pulls away with her hands up again.

“Billy, I know I made a mistake, and I’ll regret it forever but I thought I was doing the right thing!  When I found out what they did I was so angry, I just couldn’t take it and I almost-” Her voice cuts out and she shakes her head. “I was sick in the head, ok? I was sick and I didn’t want to ruin your life and I thought it would be best for everyone if I left,” She’s doing that panicked rambling thing, there are tears welling up in her eyes and he really doesn’t need to see that right now. 

“And you couldn’t just call?” Any other time he might be ashamed of the way he sounds but right now he feels far too much to care.

“Oh, baby…the moment I heard your voice, you would have had me running right back-” That’s her answer. Fuck . Doesn’t it sound sickeningly familiar? It comes into focus right in front of his face and he feels like the idiot he is. Like mother like faggot son. “It was a mistake, I know that now, ok? I’ll never make up for the time I lost with you, and I am so sorry Billy. You know that right?”

He can tell she's going to keep apologizing if he lets her but he doesn’t want to listen to it, it's not going to change the way he feels right now. He gets it, knows exactly the kind of dumb shit she must have been thinking but that doesn’t make him any less angry at her. It doesn’t make him any less angry at himself.

“Yeah, okay.” He snaps and her face falls. “You’re sorry. Now can you get the fuck out of my face?” 

“Billy!” She reaches out again but at least she knows better than to touch him.

“No! Get out of my room!” He just can’t keep listening to her bullshit. 

She retreats like he’s wounded her, and he wants to scream but he swallows it. He’s used to wanting to hurt the people that piss him off and maybe it would be easier if he really wanted her gone, but he can’t. She showed him his first Hitchcock flick. She was the only person who understood him before Stu.

It’s just that the older he gets the more he realizes how weak she is.

It’s not her fault when he thinks about it, none of it is really. It’s Hank. He had a college degree when he married her. She was 19 on her wedding day, and Billy was born the next year. He poisoned her for years, poisoned Billy’s childhood home, and after all the grace she gave him, he cheated on her god knows how many times. 

And now Billy is just like him. He’s the worst of both of them. 

It’s not a revelation that fills him with rage, instead it drains him entirely. It makes him think about how he felt when his mom left, and how she must have felt when she found out about Maureen. Then he thinks about Stu and then he feels sick all over again.  It’s my movie, you aren’t even on the poster. He said that to him back in February. 

You’re an asshole.

That’s the thought that splits him open, knocks down every dam he’s built inside his brain so all he can do is curl in on himself. He needs Stu. Right now, he needs him so bad that he doesn’t care about the underwear or the humiliation or the broken rules, he just needs him but he can’t have him and he only has himself to blame. 

Goddamn, love you too baby. 

He’s not sure exactly when he pulled it out but his phone is in his hands now, and shit, it’s a bad idea right? What, he’s just gonna call Stu out of nowhere and whine about his mommy issues? Absolutely not. You used to show up at his house and whine about your mommy issues in person. Billy feels his face twist and wraps his arms around his head, squeezing like he might be able to pop it clean off.

He holds his breath until the pressure is unbearable. His head spins when he finally breathes out, empty for a brief second until the thinking comes back. And maybe that helps, because he’s just realized he actually has a really good reason to talk to Stu, if anything it’s an urgent reason and he should have done it weeks ago-

He’s dialing Stu’s number before he can second guess himself but he still ends up chewing a hole halfway through his cheek as it rings. It’s fine though, he’s just going to talk to him. He’s going to have to visit Woodsboro for his trophy anyway and they’re going to talk about the interviews. They aren’t going to fuck or fight at all. Billy’s going to be so chill and so casual-

“Sup’ bitch?” That’s not the greeting he’s expecting.

“Who the fuck d’you think you’re talking to?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out like that, it’s just a reflex. He feels maybe a little dizzy which is so goddamn stupid-

“Billy?” Stu sounds like hope. Raw hope, warm affection and blinding excitement. Billy forces himself to take a breath. It’s ridiculous but the knots in his stomach are already loosening. God, you’re so gay.

“Jesus Christ, calm down. ” He’s saying it to himself as much as Stu. He just needs to stay on topic. “We need to talk about what’s off limits for the Top Story interviews.” Yeah, that sounds good. 

“Oh- uh, yeah, yeah, that makes sense. What'd you-”

“Not over the phone, fuckbrain.” Okay, it’s not exactly chill or casual. “...I’ll be in Woodsboro next weekend.” Shit, it’s hard to actually say it though. He’s pacing a figure-eight into his bedroom floor.

“Yeah?” Stu sounds so excited and it makes his stomach flip.

“Don’t-” Billy snaps. “Don’t do that.” He tries to soften it a little (chill and casual after all) but he doesn’t think it works.

“Don’t do what?” Stu’s taunting him. God, why is he so disarming?

“You’re so fucking annoying. Goodbye .” He hangs up before Stu can reel him in any further. 

He calls Sid’s aunt Kate first thing the next day to tell her he’ll be in town on Friday, and it’s easy enough to play into the guilt so he can get his mom to go along with it. He doesn’t tell her about Sid’s aunt obviously, he just says he’s homesick and he wants to see Stu, and he could swear he sees her face light up. She probably thinks it’s a good sign or whatever, like it’s going to make the move back easier. 

Once the plan is set it’s pretty much all he thinks about until he pulls out of the parking lot on Friday morning. He’s got his mom in the passenger seat so he can’t smoke on the way there and it’s another one of those days where everything she does annoys him, but it’s fine. It’s going to put some more supervised hours on his permit and he’s going to get his trophy. 

And you’re going to see Stu. And he’s going to be so chill about it. And casual.

He drives to the house, making a passing attempt to hide the undiluted contempt he feels for his father, then making his exit as fast as he can to go drag his bike out of the garage. When he finally gets to the Prescott place Sid’s aunt opens the door looking sleep deprived. There’s a noisy three year old kid called Jill on her hip, and damn, he’s glad he killed his girlfriend instead of knocking her up. 

Kate leads him up to Sid’s bedroom, and it looks exactly like it did the last time he was here. September 26th, 1996. Goddamn. He walks through the space feeling a bit like a ghost. Like he’s in a memory, except Sid’s aunt is in the doorway looking vaguely uncomfortable. He gets the sense that she’s spent as little time in this house as possible. 

He’s not even sure what he’s looking for, what makes a good trophy? There’s that ugly ass stuffed animal on her bed, that’s pretty funny. There’s also a locket on her nightstand with a picture of Maureen in it, and a photo of the two of them at spring formal, tucked into the frame of her mirror. He remembers that night, Stu was just out of shot sucking face with Tatum and Billy’s smile looks more like a grimace. Later he made Stu lick his boots. Moving on.

He takes the photo and the locket and he leaves Sid’s aunt with her whining toddler. 

It’s almost six and the sky is getting darker as he climbs back on his bike. There’s a part of him that wants to go straight to Stu’s place but honestly he doesn’t trust that part so he turns and heads home instead. He’ll go talk to him tomorrow. He’s being so chill.

And anyway, the drive from LA was long and he’s pretty tired even though it’s not that late. He lets himself fall back on his bed, rolling onto his front and tucking his hands under the pillow as he buries his face in it. This is when he feels something under the pillow. 

Something flat and smooth. He sits back, lifts the pillow, and feels his jaw drop. It’s a polaroid. 

It’s Stu. 

He’s laying in Billy’s bed with his shirt off and his pants pushed down around his thighs. He’s hard and there’s cum on his stomach and Billy’s mouth is watering. There’s also blood. On his dick, on his right hand and wiped over his smiling lips. There are three perfect little cuts on his upper thigh, dripping, beading, and smeared because Stu’s the kind of psycho that would use his own blood to jack off. Billy is burning alive, and that’s before he pulls back the blankets to see the bloodstained sheets. 

Chill and Casual just went out the door.

Stu knew what he was doing. Like what the fuck, he’s here trying to be an adult so they can get this book shit figured out and Stu’s leaving bloody dick pictures in his bed?? He planned this, he brought the camera and the knife and he sliced himself up because he’s a brat begging for attention. Well he’s got it now .

Billy barely lets his ass touch the bike seat, he’s writing his monologue and rehearsing it frenzied in his head, jaw locked and heart pounding so he barely sees anything but the road ahead of him. And he’s ready, oh he’s really ready to eviscerate this asshole. 

He ditches his bike on the lawn, marches up the walkway and bangs on the door. When it swings open, he’s face to face with Tammy Beckett. 

Tammy fucking Beckett.

His whole brain shuts down for a second, just totally shorts out and then flips back on at full speed. It feels like electricity in the worst way possible, and the slut in Stu’s doorway is smiling at him. 

No-

No, no, no, fuck no-

“I need to talk to Stu.” He snarls. If she doesn’t get out of his face immediately he’s going to do something drastic.

“Hey man!” Stu appears over her shoulder grinning like a hyena and Billy is going to flay him alive. Caught you motherfucker. 

Stu had him feeling all messed up about the shit with Mickey while he was banging Tammy ass-fingers Beckett! There’s almost something relieving about it. He was stupid for feeling anything at all, Stu’s clearly been getting along fine without him. 

Billy can’t even get off choking a hot creep in the bathroom.

“Uh- I was just on my way out! Bye Stu, nice to see you Billy- ” The slut is slipping past him like she thinks she’s subtle, like she thinks he doesn’t know what she’s been doing, and Stu’s smiling like Billy isn’t about to kill him. 

The moment the door is closed behind her he explodes. 

“What, so you’re fucking her again?” He’s too angry to think straight and he barely even knows what he’s saying but Stu is laughing at him! He’s fucking laughing .

“Tammy? Nah. Why’re you mad though? You don’t want me, remember?”

God FUCKING damnit.

It's all just the red haze and Billy’s yelling, and Stu keeps laughing harder and harder until he slams the heel of his boot down on his toes. Stu screams, it obviously hurts but he’s back to laughing as soon as he catches his breath. 

“Tammy fucking Beckett??” Billy’s lost all control of his voice at this point and Stu just looks so proud of himself.

“Yeah, you don’t sound mad screaming about her like that-” Bastard! Billy slams his heel down again, and the sound Stu makes in response is so deeply unhelpful. “ Fuck, man I’m telling the truth, I’m not banging Tammy.”

There’s a part of him that stutters at that. It kind of doesn’t sound like Stu’s lying but there’s no way, right? Like, of all people, why the hell else would he still be hanging out with the whore that took his virginity? As if Billy’s not well aware that he can’t keep it in his pants. 

Going to make you say it you coward-

“Then why was she here?” Say it to my face! His stomach is knotted, full of venom and the room spins around him, off-kilter like that one scene in Nightmare.

“I mean, she’s kinda my best friend right now.” That’s what Stu says. It’s the last response he’s expecting and it makes him feel so much sicker.

“Best friend.” Like that’s not Billy’s title anymore. Like they weren’t best friends when he let Stu fuck him in the ass. “She’s your best friend? ” Billy feels like the world is burning down around him and he’s drowning in the smoke. 

“You left, Billy. Did you not think I'd make new friends when you ran away?” Stu sounds so tired all of a sudden and it stings worse than anger. 

“I didn’t run away you dumb fuck-” He’s floundering, it’s obvious deflection but he doesn’t know what else to say and he doesn’t know what he thought Stu was going to do.  

Maybe he thought he wouldn’t care or maybe he thought Stu would just sit alone in his room and do nothing, but whatever it was he was wrong. He cares. He cares so much that he wants to peel his own skin off. 

“I didn’t want you to leave! You know that!” Stu’s voice breaks, and that’s what clears the red haze for a second. It’s only now that Billy realizes he’s not laughing anymore, not grinning. Finally he looks completely serious. “M’not fucking trying to replace you, could never replace you, wouldn’t want to.” For the second time today Billy feels his brain shutdown and restart. 

Because Stu means that. 

Billy knows him well enough to know he means that, and more than that he wants him to mean it. He needs him to mean it, thinks he might have lost it if he didn’t and now he might as well be completely naked, skinless, just bare organs bleeding and unprotected because Billy tried to replace him. He tried, and he couldn’t.

“I’m not- I don’t care, ok?” He’s talking too fast and his voice is too high. “I don’t care what you do.” It was supposed to be the truth, he wishes it was the truth but it’s really not. “You were a convenient hole but there’s a lot of those in LA.” The moment he says that it gets harder to breathe. 

If Billy was normal Mickey would have been a convenient hole, but Billy’s not normal. His dick only seems interested in the original douchebag. 

“So what? Are you tryna tell me you’re fucking someone else?” Stu’s face is splitting into half a grin like he’s not buying it, but his eyes are a little too wide. Billy feels like he can see straight through that lone retina and it’s pure violence.

Fuck . 

“What if I was?” His face is getting hot and he’s still not getting enough air. If you really wanted to break this you’d tell him what you did. Maybe he should. Maybe that would be the right thing to do- 

“Then I’d kill him.” Stu’s answer feels like a headshot. He doesn’t hesitate, his tone is sharp and even, and Billy feels a rush of blood between his thighs. Oh you goddamn idiot don’t get hard right now-

“Could be a girl-” It takes everything not to cringe at himself. It’s really the worst comeback he could have worked up and now Stu is full on grinning again, teeth bared. 

“No it couldn’t.” He giggles, and fine, they both know it couldn’t, but how is he just going to say it like that??

“Fuck you!” Stupid. He feels like he’s backed into a corner even though he’s standing in the middle of the hallway and Stu’s the one with his back against the wall.

“Nah, you don’t wanna fuck me anymore, remember? So I guess you wouldn't care if I fuck Tammy, right? ” Billy’s blood boils.

“You’re such a piece of shit!” He screams, that painful electricity shooting through his nerves. His idiot mouth just keeps moving too, faster than his brain and completely out of control. “-I don’t even think about you when I’m in LA! I only screwed you last time because you followed me to my apartment like a sad little stray, and now you’re, you’re breaking into my room so you can bleed and cum all over my bed?? The fucking picture ?” And that’s when Billy realizes he just bit down on the bait.

“I just wanted to give you somethin’ for your collection.” Stu’s gaze is hunter-focused, lone pupil dilated. Billy’s never felt more like prey.

“My what?” He sounds scared and he hates himself for it but he feels a well-tied snare closing down on his ankles, his wrists, his throat and his vision is starting to blur. There’s really only one thing Stu could be talking about and it’s completely fatal.

“Your collection of pictures of me.” The bullet hits dead-on. Stu always had incredible aim.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-” He’s panicking again. He’s panicking and Stu is licking his lips.

“The ones in the shoebox you keep in the closet.” 

Fuck. 

FUCK!

He actually doesn’t know how to process it when it finally sinks in, his whole body is just hot-cold, pins and needles, and his ears fill with the rush of his own blood. Stu found his box. That's it. He found all of Billy’s worst secrets just like that, and now he’s taunting him for it. 

Billy’s breath goes shallow as he raises a desperate last defence but Stu doesn’t even waver, he just keeps firing shots, saying I missed you and you missed me too, and he’s completely right. Infuriating and right, and too close and entirely irresistible. 

“I… hate you.” Billy ends the argument.

You didn’t kiss him last time.  

It’s the first thought he has when their lips touch. It feels inevitable this time, or at least he’s not strong enough to hold back. It's everything left inside him, violent rage, desperate longing and vicious jealousy, exploding out of him in teeth and tongue and hard gripping hands.  Billy bites where he knows it will be visible and he hopes everyone sees it, hopes everyone knows that Stu is property-

Blood spills on his tongue and he feels like a shark, feels Stu hard against his thigh and rips at his clothes because now he just needs skin.

“What’d you do with my picture, huh?” Stu sounds like sex. “Did you jack off to it?” 

No, I came straight here so I could screw you first.

“Fuck you.” He says it like he doesn’t even know what it means and he barely does because he’s already so hard and his hands are on Stu’s chest, groping down his bare stomach to find the cigarette burn. 

“Did you cum on it? Did you cum all over my cock?” His voice is low in Billy’s ear, nearly has him shivering, definitely has him going redder than before as he starts trying to unbutton Stu’s pants. Stu’s not making it easier either, rambling about how he was thinking of Billy when he took that picture, about how he was imagining Billy fucking him with a knife-

Makin’ a new hole, filling my fuckin’ heart with cum-

The idea of that alone hits so hard that he doesn’t even try to resist when Stu picks him up and sets him on the entryway table, pushing in between his legs like he’s the one taking charge here. He can’t think any better when Stu yanks his jeans down, but for some reason he opens his mouth and starts talking anyway.

“What’d you do with my underwear, huh perve? Were you fuckin’ sniffing it? D’you jack off with that shit?” He should never have brought that up. It’s a losing game and Stu’s fingers are already wrapped around his dick

“S’the way you smell, gets me so hard it hurts. Everytime you leave I break into your room, lie in your bed, cut myself n’ wish it was you, fuck my hand n’ wish it was you-” 

That’s all it takes to make him completely insane and now he just needs to be as close as possible. He needs to press together until they start to merge like some Cronenberg monster, so he lines his dick up against Stu’s and wraps his hands around both of them. 

“Fucking creep, you sound like a stalker-” The insults are compulsive but they come out broken, half-moaned. He’s too far gone to get ahold of himself at this point, they’re grinding against each other, fucking through their fists and every defence he could have raised has already been knocked down. 

“Y’know m’not gonna stay away, baby, you don’t want me to, not really-” Stu moans this out and some kind of horrifying warmth opens up inside him, fills him up enough to push the tension out of his body, so what the hell is that?? “Your ass is mine,” He feels the low vibration of Stu’s voice through his chest and shudders. Territorial.  “-you fuck someone else, I gut em’,” Fuuuck-

He can see it; Stu gutting Mickey. Stu ripping him open and taking him apart, not methodical like a butcher but frantic and vicious like a starving animal. He’s fucking up against him a bit harder without meaning to, sputtering out some pathetic, half-assed response because he’s focused on Stu’s mouth and getting closer to it.

It makes him feel crazy how different it is from kissing Mickey, and it’s not the scars or the metal stud in his tongue. It's not texture or technique or anything specific it’s just Stu, over and over again forever. He’s getting to that place where he’s reduced to a collection of senses, to hips moving, hands stroking and dick aching, and by the sounds coming out of Stu he’s no better off. 

“Bil- mmmph, Billy, m ’gonna f-fuckin-” Stu’s begging and right now Billy wants nothing more than to see the look of relief on his face as his mind gets atomized.

“Cum, do it,” He’s too screwed up for it to sound like a dare or a command, it’s nothing less than needy but he can’t even care because the man between his legs is shaking. 

Then it happens, Stu’s mouth falls open against his jaw and his good eye rolls back as he spills over. God, it never gets old. He’s so concentrated on the sight of it that he doesn’t even realize his stomach and chest are now dripping an almost comical amount of cum. He’d be laughing if it wasn’t so vile. 

You like it.  

Ugh.

Stu makes a broken little sound, shivering as Billy finally lets go of his dick and he finds himself laughing. He’s laughing even harder when the idiot opens one bleary eye to see his cum all over Billy's skin. He blushes . He gets this goofy expression on his scarred up face, and fuck, fuck, fuck it’s like he was genetically engineered to make Billy feel like a loaded gun.

He tells Stu to clean it up just to see his expression when he’s given an order, but he’s not prepared for the actual experience of being cleaned . It's got his breath coming in fast, feeling like way more than it should because it's just a tongue and a stomach but it lulls him into an embarrassingly docile state by the time Stu starts licking one of his nipples. He’s gripping the edge of the table, trying to hold onto a shred of dignity when Stu decides to bite. 

“Ah!” It’s this sharp jolt, like it really hurts but it also makes his hips twitch, so that’s mortifying. 

He’s definitely pinched Stu’s nipples before, ran a knife over them once or twice but he figured the reaction was all pain. It definitely wasn’t, and now he’s caught between swallowing a moan and pushing Stu away because he can’t think clearly enough to make the choice. He should probably be mad about this right? He really should. 

“The fuck are you doing?” Billy’s voice comes out hoarse and he’s starting to think he never had any dignity to lose in the first place.

“Mhhmhmhm sorry , guess I got a lil’ carried away huh?” Stu apologizes in word only, it’s completely insincere but now he’s kneeling between Billy’s legs, basically rubbing his face against his dick and looking up at him with that big blue eye.

“F-fucking freak,” Why are you stuttering?

Stu doesn’t respond, he just inhales like he’s trying to breathe him in. It’s ridiculous but it’s also dumb-hot, and Billy’s already on the verge of overstimulation when soft lips make contact with the most sensitive skin on his body. Holy shit, there’s that piercing. It’s not even crazy different, it’s just a new contrast to the texture of a tongue but it’s enough to have him grabbing fistfuls of short blonde hair when Stu starts actually sucking him off. 

God, I missed this mouth.

Stu can take it so he doesn’t wait long to start pushing in further, pulling him down until he’s thrusting up into that throat. Stu’s a goddamn sight too, tearing up as he lets Billy ram into him like breathing air is a bonus function. Sometimes the way he looks is even more overwhelming than the feeling of him and Billy’s body just takes over, chasing the gut-clenching sensation and staring down at his messed up face. 

He’s not far from the end. It hasn’t even been that long but he can feel himself rushing up towards it and he’s pouring himself out before he even realizes it, so all he can do is ride Stu’s mouth until he’s completely drained. 

He pulls out when the feeling veers toward too much and Stu gasps, looking thoroughly used and completely blissed out. It’s… shit, Stu just looks pretty like this. You cheated on him. Billy’s good mood dissolves immediately. 

Stu still looks pretty, he looks exactly the same as he did a second ago only now the sight of him has Billy’s stomach sinking like an anchor.

It wasn’t even cheating! Why the fuck does he keep worrying about it? 

He dumped Stu way before he did anything with Mickey so he doesn’t have anything to feel guilty about. And they weren’t even together like that in the first place! Pretty much the whole time they were doing that shit they both had girlfriends. He never gave a shit if he was cheating back then, it was almost better that way. Just one more twist of the knife in Sid’s back.

Maybe that’s what he was chasing in the bathroom with Mickey. Maybe it would have worked if he actually liked it, it might have felt like revenge. It didn’t though, it felt like betrayal.

He blinks back into the room and Stu is still right where he was before, looking up at him with those puppy dog eyes. 

Billy feels like a monster.

“Move.” He hears himself say it, starting to spin as he pulls his underwear up and yanks his shirt back on. He needs to get away right now, he feels like he did when he tried to leave after Christmas-

“Where ya goin’, man?” Except it’s not like Christmas because Stu doesn’t sound nervous, if anything he sounds amused. 

“I’m leaving, you vacant hole-” The insult comes up fast because here he is, freaking out and Stu’s just totally fine, totally unbothered as usual and he needs to leave . “What, did you think I was gonna stick around and cuddle?” 

“I mean, obviously I’d love to spoon your ass, but nah,” Stu’s standing up behind him as he fights to punch an arm through his jacket sleeve. “We’re s’posed to be getting our story straight, remember?” Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Somehow he forgot that he came here for a reason, and when he makes the mistake of looking up he sees his own doom. Stu. He hasn’t bothered to wipe his face at all, his eyelashes are still wet and sticking together, and there are tear tracks on his cheeks.

“I hate you. So much.” Billy lies for the millionth time as he struggles back out of his jacket. 

“You want a snack, dude? You seem a lil’ cranky.” Stu’s laughing as he wipes his messed-up face with his shirt. 

He doesn’t bother to put it back on after either, so apparently he’s just going to leave himself shirtless, cigarette burn on full display. It’s pink now. Motherfucker . 

“Shut up.” Billy snaps. Horribly, he’s tongue tied and struggling to look at any part of Stu, so he shoves past him into the hallway only to be halted by a fluffy orange cat standing in his way.  “ Well, look who found her way off the Nostromo.” 

He’s actually really happy to see her, it’s only now occurring to him that she could have been killed in the fire if she’d been caught in the house. It’s possible he likes the little bitch. 

“Yeah,” Stu is suddenly right behind him, slipping past him and crouching to let Jonesy rub her face against his hand. “She played hard to get for a while, but she’s a house cat now.” He’s scratching around under her collar as he says it, but he’s looking straight at Billy, smirking. “Isn’t that right princess?” Okay? Billy feels his nose scrunch up. 

“Do you want an award or can we stop wasting time?” Can you put a damn shirt on? 

“Yeah man, sure.” The bastard is snickering. “I’ll get us something to eat, meet you in my room.”

“ Cool .” Billy snaps and does his best not to run for the stairs. 

The second he’s out of Stu’s line of sight he remembers how to breathe normally, but it doesn’t really help at all. There’s a part of him that just wishes he could take a goddamn shower right now but that would be so weird with the way things are. Everything sucks.

When he gets to Stu’s room there’s a part of him thinking don’t look around, pretend you don’t care , but the moment he steps through the door he sees everything that’s changed since he was here last. For one, there’s a lot more tapes on the shelf- Stu’s well on his way to restoring the collection to its pre-fire glory. There’s the traitorous camera by the TV too. He should have known those gifts were going to bite him in the ass. 

He wanders over to the desk, and for some reason he’s surprised to be looking at an acceptance letter from a film production program. It's not that he didn’t think Stu could get into something like that, his grades aren't great but that’s not from a lack of ability. It’s just that he’s only motivated if the goal is something he actually wants. Plus there’s always his dad’s bank account to fall back on. 

Stu deserves it, if he’s being honest with himself. He’ll be great at it. But the idea of him going on and building his own life makes Billy’s stomach drop. He had Stu frozen in his brain like he’d just be here waiting, staying the same while he moved on. For a second he just wants to rip up the letter and trash it. He doesn’t though, he just blinks, grits his teeth, and flips to the next one.

LA, Pasadena, Chicago, West Craven… they’re mostly colleges and technical schools but Billy got into universities in a bunch of the same cities. He really shouldn’t ask where Stu’s going, right? That has to be a bad idea. He can’t know, if he knows then his dumb brain will talk him into following.

… but maybe that wouldn’t be the end of the world. Maybe it would be better if they were in the same place. For the book and stuff.

He’s still gripping one of the acceptance letters when he realizes what he’s looking at underneath it. It’s almost like one of those anatomical drawings, a naked man laid out on his back, chest opened up and ribs cut away so all the organs are on display. It’s all sketched out in rough, scratchy lines and bright ink, and it’s kind of really cool.

He flips to the next one and sees what seems to be the same guy, entirely skinned apart from the face and head. It's only on the third drawing that he realizes the guy is him. What the fuck- it’s the hair that tips him off, he wore it basically the same for years until he accidentally let it grow out this year. 

So Stu’s been drawing pin-up snuff of him and it's really good. 

He’s still just staring dumbly at this drawing of himself when he hears Stu start his way up the stairs. Panicking, he tries to rearrange the desk so it looks something like it did before he touched it, then he darts over to sit on the bed. He’s trying to act like he’s just been sitting here the whole time, like he’s totally normal but he’s got no idea what he’s doing with his face. He’s pretty sure he’s still red so he just ends up glaring when Stu walks in. 

“Ordered pizza.” He’s saying. He’s still half-naked but at least he’s heading for his dresser to grab a fresh shirt. 

“Cool.” Billy replies, he sounds completely flat but it’s probably better than anything else he could manage right now. He’s forcing his eyes to the floor when those mis-matched socks come into view. One of them has hot dogs on it.

“Still got your boots on,” Stu speaks softly and it takes Billy a second to process what he’s said. It’s not the provocation he was expecting. “Lemme help you-” The bastard’s voice is all low and warm as he drops to his knees for the second time this afternoon. 

This time he’s not trying to swallow cock though, he’s just pulling one of Billy’s boots into his lap. He’s sort of frozen, just watching as Stu’s long fingers slip under the hem of his jeans, up the ladder of laces to the bare skin at the top of his boot. God. Billy shudders, he can’t help it. 

When Stu finally starts unlacing his boot, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He’s taking his time with it though, and Billy can tell he’s trying to savor it. That he’s been missing it. Billy misses it too, obviously he does. That’s why he hasn’t stopped him even though he should. 

This feels like a line crossed further than fucking. It’s not even about getting off. It’s about something Billy can’t even name. 

Stu slips the boot off his foot then switches to the other one and Billy’s throat starts closing up. He can’t handle this, but he can’t make himself stop it either so he just lets it happen. He lets Stu serve him the way he used to and he tries to keep himself from cracking. When Stu’s done, he looks up and smiles (as if Billy needed to be dealt another fatal blow). Then he just gets up and flops down on the bed next to him like nothing happened.

“Sooo… what kinda song are we gonna sing for the news lady?” Stu’s voice isn’t totally steady, and something about that is comforting. 

He’s obviously trying to put them back on track though, and thank god because Billy needs something to focus on other than his inconveniently faggy feelings. 

So they talk. They trade the stories they gave the cops and they come up with answers to questions they think Sunny Daye might ask them. Billy leaves out the part where the sheriff accused him of sucking Stu’s dick though. He really doesn’t need to see Stu’s reaction to that. 

Turns out Stu really didn’t tell the cops much at all. Apparently he figured Billy would have kept their story the same up until the point that it got out of hand, so he just pretended to have memory loss for the rest of it. It's perfect, really quick thinking for a man who’d just had brain surgery, and Billy’s struck by how good he is at this when he’s not being a cocky idiot. Stu is good at a lot of things.

It feels too good to be planning with him again, it’s so different from doing it on his own. It feels like it makes him think better or something. Stu can finish half his thoughts, so even with months of baggage weighing over them, it’s easier than it has any right to be. 

Eventually pizza shows up and naturally Jonesy follows, crawling all over Stu and doing her best to steal his slice. Now that Billy’s looking he can see the evidence of her claws on his arms and hands. Even right now he can’t imagine the way she’s climbing him is comfortable, but Stu doesn’t stop smiling even when he’s wincing. Patient. 

There’s something about it that makes Billy ache, ropes up his stomach so bad it puts him off his food. He fills up on cola instead and now the caffeine has his fingers tapping. The roped-up feeling doesn’t ease by the time he’s emptied the can. If anything it’s getting worse every time he looks at Stu, every time Stu looks at him. They’ve basically covered everything they possibly can anyway, so it's time to go right? He should leave. 

“Uh-” Stu’s still shoving pizza into his mouth when Billy clears his throat and forces himself to his feet. “I gotta head home.” 

“Oh.” Stu’s shoulders slump immediately. It would be comical if it didn’t make the ache so much worse. “Yeah. I mean… you don’t have to, you could-”

“No.” His voice cracks as he barks it out. “I don’t-” What are you about to say? “I can’t. I’m…” Shut up. “I just can’t”

“Ok.” Stu nods, letting out a long sigh and grabbing Billy’s boots before he can get to them himself. “I’ll walk you to the door.” 

And it’s not like he can really stop Stu from doing that, but it’s just another thing that makes it feel like they’re dating again- even though they definitely weren’t dating before. They were just… whatever the fuck they’ve been for years. 

They reach the door and Billy snatches his boots back so he can pull them on himself. He can’t go through the ritual again, not now when he’s already given up so much ground today. He ties his own shoes and stands up, coming face to face with his personal achilles heel. 

“Gonna miss you, man.” Stu smiles at him. He’s got his hands in his pockets and Billy just wants to touch him somehow. Instead he puts his hands in his pockets too.

“I-” I’m gonna miss you too. “I’ll see you.” He forces it out as he walks through the door. He doesn’t know if he’s giving more than he should. He doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. 

He kind of wishes he could turn around and go back inside. Even though that would be humiliating. He’s not going to, obviously . For a second he wishes he didn’t have to deal with the bullshit between them anymore so he could just sleep in Stu’s bed tonight. 

He’s just so worn down. He’s been telling himself he’s solid rock all this time but solid rock is nothing against years of erosion. He’s past pretending he’s leaving forever, the lie of it feels so obvious that it almost makes him cringe. 

“See you soon!” Stu speaks to his back but he sounds hopeful, so damn hopeful, and Billy feels himself erode just a little more.

On the way home the ache doesn’t dissipate but his vision is clear. He’s not spiraling, if anything he feels sort of calm. Way calmer than he was and it’s not just the orgasm that got him there. He’s starting to think it's the effect of being around him for an extended period of time. It’s infuriating, or it should be but he doesn’t really have it in him to feel that anymore.

When he gets back to his house Stu’s Polaroid is staring up at him from his bloody sheets. Realistically he needs to get rid of that shit as soon as possible, but even after he switches them out for a fresh set he ends up falling asleep with the stained ones clutched to his chest. In the morning he shoves them in his backpack and smuggles them back to LA, he can trash them there somewhere.

He brings the Polaroid with him too but he can't kid himself into thinking he’d ever get rid of it. 

For better or for worse it’s the reason he starts jacking off again on a regular basis once he’s back in LA, and he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it. He’s been falling down this hill for longer than he’d been willing to admit, but he’s given up on panicking and scrabbling to drag himself back up. Somehow he feels better than he did before though, he feels clearer. The signal is coming in stronger and the picture is finally crisp. 

It’s completely irrational because he definitely didn’t win their last interaction. If anything what he did was about equivalent to tripping up Stu’s front steps, ripping his pants, and dropping every card he’s ever had face up.  In the past he would have been furious and on some level he doesn’t know why he’s not, but he can’t even work it up when he tries. He’s not mad at Stu anymore. He’s not even really mad at himself, so that’s new. He’s not even sure what he feels, but it’s new.

Maybe he’s not so upset about moving back to Woodsboro, even if it means his parents are getting back together.

The weather is warming up again and he’s rapidly moving into his last days of high school, moving towards whatever comes next. He doesn’t have a clue what that’s going to be, but he’s almost looking forward to it (and it’s getting harder and harder to keep himself from trying to find out where Stu’s going to school).

In the meantime he’s got the interviews with Daye to focus on, and they’re turning out to be a lot more fun than he was expecting. 

It’s like they're playing Mafia or something, she’s always digging for something more and he’s always feeding her little stories, some real, some fake. It’s not that she ever really seems suspicious or anything, she’s not trying to get him to incriminate himself. She’s just looking for the kind of intimate details that normal people keep tucked away. She’s not a ghostwriter, she’s a reporter and it shows.

She asks what he thought of Sid the first time he saw her, when he told her he loved her, whether he ever thought something was off. He knows how to tell a good story and it’s not hard to make shit up, talk about how he and Sid were going to move in together after high school, how they were going to have two kids and a white picket fence, and how is he ever supposed to trust again? 

She asks him a lot of funny shit, like was Sid into heavy metal? Does he think she might have been indoctrinated into a cult? Did she ever talk to him about satanism? What about Neil? Did anything seem off about him? Did it seem like he had problems with Maureen before she died?

It gets ridiculous in a completely new way when she starts asking about Casey. It blindsides him at first, but it makes sense she’d want to know why he thinks Sidney went after her, whether they ever had problems with each other. 

Then she starts asking about Stu, though. Did Sid ever seem interested in him? Does Billy think she could have cheated on him? Was she jealous of Casey? Was she jealous of Tatum? This bitch is seriously asking him if Sid was in love with Stu or something, and he’s very entertained by that until she starts asking him how he feels about Stu.

Apparently she noticed ‘tension’ at their first meeting. That's what she calls it. Tension. It feels like a threat but there’s no way it’s about that, she probably thinks it's because Sid cucked him with Stu or something dumb like that. He tells her he has no idea what she’s talking about but he’s not sure if she buys it. 

He’s still thinking about it when he gets home after the interview, and that just leads to thinking about Stu. Most things lead to thinking about Stu right now.

Like what’s he doing right now? Has he picked out a school? More importantly, is Daye asking him about Billy too? What is he saying? Realistically probably nothing incriminating, Stu knows better than that. But still, it’s definitely better to know for sure so he should just call. It’s a good reason, completely justifiable. It’s also possible that the thought of talking to him has Billy’s fingers dancing around on his knees but he’s going to ignore that because it makes him feel like an idiot. 

This time when he dials Stu’s number he doesn’t chew through his cheek, but he does feel like he’s not quite breathing enough.

“Billy!” Stu’s voice is so loud and so sudden that it has him yanking the phone away from his ear for a second. “Uh- sorry man,” He thinks Stu’s apologizing for the shouting but then, slightly more muffled: “Yeah, that’s the one- right there, thanks.” 

“Who are you talking to?” He’s not sure why it comes out so gruff. Be cool asshole, be chill. 

“Oh- uh,” More shuffling in the background. “Suit guy, needed a tux for prom on Friday.”

A tux. For prom. On Friday. Billy immediately forgets why he called.

This hot-cold prickling rush crawls over his skin, leaves him absently scratching his arm as his brain starts to whir because oh god, Stu is going to prom? Probably with Tammy fucking Beckett. He’s going to put on a suit and he’s probably going to look really hot and he’s going to go to prom with this bitch, and Billy’s seen enough movies to know- 

“Billy? You still there?” Stu asks, casual like it’s not a huge bomb to drop. 

Billy waits for an explosive anger that never comes. Instead it’s just this heavy feeling, right in the middle of his chest.

“You’re going to prom.” He sounds way too… he sounds way too much about it. His face burns and he drops it into his free hand. This isn’t why you called, what are you doing?

There’s a long silence during which Billy nearly chews through his lip. 

“Um, yeah man. Figured it only happens once y’know? So yeah…” And what the hell is he supposed to say to that? He can feel a muscle pulsing in his temple. “Always thought we’d be at prom together.” Stu steals his breath again like it’s nothing. “I mean, y’know, with some chicks or something but…” But they’d be together. Like they had been for years. 

For a second in his mind Sid and Tatum are still alive, and they’re all showing up in a limo, taking stupid pictures with the girls, doing the stupid dance and getting drunk on whatever Stu brought to spike the punch. After they’d end up at someone’s empty house or a hotel, and maybe Stu would bang Tatum while Billy made a passing attempt to act normal with Sid, but either way he’d watch the sun come up with Stu. 

“Um.” Billy clears his throat and tries to take a normal breath. He needs to redirect this. “I’m not calling about prom, I’m calling about Daye. Did she ask you about me?”

“I- yeah, she did.”

“And what did you say?” Billy’s hand is starting to cramp so he flexes it, shakes it out. 

“I dunno dude,” Stu does something like a sigh on the other end. “Just the normal stuff. You’re my best friend, we’ve known each other since we were kids, yadda yadda. Actually, I think I might have told her you’re like a brother to me.” 

“ Ew .” Billy wipes his face with his hands, somehow blushing worse than before. Stu laughs, slow and soft before he speaks.

“Did she uh, did she ask about me?” He sounds hesitant, maybe a little hopeful, 

“...Yes.” Billy isn’t going to elaborate and Stu doesn’t ask him to. “We’re going to have to be careful with that.” 

“Yeah,” Stu sounds serious and it’s hard not to appreciate it. “Yeah, of course.” 

“Good.” He forces it out, like he even cares about the interview thing anymore. 

“Yeah, good.” Stu’s smile is audible and Billy is a total homo these days so he really fucking likes the way it sounds. “So… how’ve you been?” 

“Don’t small talk me dipshit.” It’s an automatic response. Someone else might have called him rude for it but from Stu he gets a snicker. 

“Alright, game. You going to prom in LA or whatever?” It’s not a casual question, there’s an edge to it. You fuck someone else, I gut em’. Billy’s thighs press together involuntarily.

“No.” There’s no point lying about it again, Stu would see through it. “Where are you going to school?” He kind of can’t believe he just asked that. He lets himself fall back onto the bed and curls up on his side so he can hug his knees. 

“Mm, I think I’m going with Friedkin.” Friedkin is in West Craven. Billy got into West Craven University. “Where, uh… where’re you going?”

“I don’t know yet.” It’s the truth, but one of his options just got a lot more appealing and now his heart rate is speeding up.

“Oh…” Stu sounds disappointed and Billy swallows. “Ok.” For a second he thinks he should tell him about West Craven. For a second he thinks he should tell him not to go to prom, but he’s not that pathetic. He’s embarrassed himself enough already. 

“Yeah, um- I should go.” There’s this part of him that sinks as he says it, but it’s only going to get worse the longer he lets himself talk. “Bye Stu.”

“Bye Bil-” He hangs up before Stu can finish his name. 

His insides feel too light, like he’s in an elevator going down fast and they haven’t caught up with the rest of him. He doesn’t know how to feel about himself right now. On the one hand he could go to school in the same town as Stu but on the other hand he’s not supposed to want that, and also Stu is going to prom, probably with Tammy Beckett. Like, tomorrow.

If he’s being completely real with himself he’s pretty sure Stu was telling the truth when he said he wasn’t screwing her before, but it could happen at prom. It’s just what people do, right? And Stu will definitely get drunk which will make him horny and easy, and as much as Billy would rather not admit it he knows Tammy is hot to dudes who are into that shit. It could happen. And then what? 

Billy really doesn’t know what, actually. It was different when the girl Stu was fucking was Tatum, at least with her it was happening because Billy told him to do it. If Stu fucks Tammy (again) it will be because he wants to, and that’s one of those nauseating, stomach cramping, jaw clenching type thoughts. 

Whether or not he wants to admit it Stu is moving on. He’s got a new hobby and a new best friend , and he’s going to go away to school in the fall, miles away from Woodsboro. Whether or not it’s with Tammy he’s going to find someone else eventually, Billy can’t expect him to wait forever. 

The darkest part of him knows what happens next in that storyline. It’s one thing if it’s just sex, if it’s just sex then the bitch is dying at his nearest opportunity, but if it’s more than that? If it's more than that no one’s walking away.

On some level he’s shocked Stu even lasted this long, he’s not sure he ever dated someone he didn’t cheat on at least once. When the girlfriend of the month was away with her family over Christmas or thanksgiving he would throw a party and end up in a closet with some other chick. 

So maybe he’s held out so far, but it’s only a matter of time, and once that sinks in it pulls an avalanche down behind it. There’s a lot that Billy doesn’t want and there’s a lot that he does want, and none of it works if he stays away. 

When he left in the first place he was trying to protect himself, trying to keep himself safe from the type of person that Stu turns him into. But what is he now? What has he ever been in LA? Miserable. Unproductive. 

Now he can’t stop thinking about it- is he really supposed to pull off a sequel the way he’s been? With Mickey? Would that even be fun? He’s pretty sure he could manage enough soulless handjobs to keep him hooked. Hell, with a purpose he could pull off a blowjob or a fuck but there’s no guarantee that Mickey would be as loyal as Stu. No guarantee he’d be as clever either.

It’s hard not to follow that train of thought to its logical conclusion, so now he’s wondering… is it better for his sequel if he goes back to Stu? He’s starting to think it might be better for him, at least he’d actually get off. He’d laugh more too. He’d have someplace to go when he hates everyone else.

Happier. You’d be happier.

Billy grinds a knuckle into the bruises on the top of his thigh. He’s been trying so hard to stay away this whole time, practically martyred himself and what’s he got to show for it? For months he’s been coming up blank trying to picture the sequel, it just never feels right no matter what he does, but the moment he lets Stu into frame it’s crystal clear.

Billy Loomis might be a fucking idiot.

It comes on slow but the feeling builds into a monstrous lightness bigger than his body. His chest heaves and something that sounds like laughter comes out of him, hysterical. He’s shaking and there’s probably something wrong with him, but he also just feels relieved. 

It's been a while since he’s known exactly what he needs to do. 

He doesn’t have his full license yet but he’s a decent driver so if he’s careful he shouldn’t draw any attention. It's kind of a really long drive from LA to Woodsboro though, like seven hours if you’re lucky, so he’s going to have to leave early. He waits till his mom heads to the bathroom for her morning shower, he snatches her car keys from her purse and he dips.

God, it feels good to drive alone. He shoved a load of tapes into his backpack so he can listen to all the stuff he wouldn’t listen to around his mom and he can smoke as many cigarettes as he likes. It gets old somewhere around the two hour mark. After that it turns into a goddamn labor fuelled by Cola and beef jerky but it’s fine. 

Everything is easier when you have a purpose.

He passes the town limits on the other side of the day, but they’re close enough to summer that it’s not totally dark yet. He drives straight to the high school just following instinct and he’s bang-on, the school is lit the fuck up, parking lot practically full. There’s also the banner hanging over the doors to the gymnasium.

It’s not exactly an ideal situation, he was hoping he could get to Stu before he actually showed up at this overhyped high school dance. He absolutely does not want to have to interact with any of his old classmates so there’s no way he’s going in there to look for him. He could pull the fire alarm, he’s pretty sure there’s one just inside the doors so he could probably do it before anyone caught sight of him.

For once the universe is on his side though, because just as he’s debating the pros and cons of the fire alarm option Stu throws open the doors.

Shit. 

He’s wearing one of those ridiculous red tuxedo jackets with the black satiny lapels. It’s sort of disturbingly similar to that old Hugh Hefner robe that must have burned up with everything else last year. For some reason the stupid cheesy off-trend jacket looks good on him, just like the robe did. Even worse, the jacket is open and the top of his shirt is unbuttoned, an equally gaudy bowtie hanging from his breast pocket. He might as well be walking in slow motion, all lit up like he's on a sound stage.

Billy feels… really fucking gay.

He’s already standing outside the car and he’s not sure when he did that but he’s not going to waste time. This isn’t the kind of movie he usually watches but it's definitely cinematic.

His gaze pans unblinking over the scars and the dimples, the line of his jaw, his throat and a sliver of his chest as he forces himself to move forward. He’s halfway across the parking lot when Stu catches sight of him and he straight up does a double take, mouth open and eyes wide before his expression tears into a brilliant grin. 

Billy can feel the muscles in his face trying to pull his mouth into a smile and he actively stops himself from suppressing it. He feels like an idiot, like he’s a total embarrassment, but it doesn’t really matter because he feels like he’s seeing clearly for the first time in so long that the light is close to blinding.

So now they’re face to face, and Billy is just excited. Okay, maybe he’s a little nervous but he’s not rabidly angry or terrified or sick to his stomach. If they weren’t right out in the open behind his old high school he’s not sure he would be able to keep himself from reaching out to touch, and it leaves him blinking hard, shoving his hands into his pockets to control them. 

Stu’s still just staring at him, still smiling but he looks almost apprehensive. Like he’s waiting for Billy to make a move, to set the tone of the scene. Right. Because you’ve been an ass to him for months. Intentionally. Billy forces his mouth to open and prays that whatever comes out won’t be the worst. 

“Uh- Hi.” Speak up, you sound like a wimp bitch. “Nice suit, asshole.” 

“Shit,” Stu’s smile cracks into something bigger, brighter somehow, scars pulling up the left side of his lip and Billy’s stomach flips in the best way possible. “What’s happening, am I dreaming?”

“Hi Billy!” Holy shit- Tammy Beckett fucking jump-scares him, appearing next to Stu. Has she been there this whole time? He feels his mouth twist so the corners pull down. “Stu, gimme the joint. You two go, catch up. I can hitch a ride with Jessica.” Ok? Well, that’s not what he was expecting from this bitch but she’s just earned a fraction of a point in his book. 

“Yeah,” Stu doesn’t look away from him as he responds to her, he just passes the joint over. He doesn’t even blink. “See ya Tam,”

“Have fun now, kids!” She’s already walking away as she shouts this over her shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Billy gets the feeling that he’s missing something there and it tugs at him a little, but he’s not going to let the paranoia drag him down tonight. He’s tired of that shit. 

“Can we get out of here.” It’s phrased like a question but it doesn’t come out like one, and Stu’s blue eye flares bright. 

“Ooh, you gonna let me ride on your handle bars? I just got my license back but I came here in a limo.” Stu’s all giddy puppy, bouncing on his toes as he falls into step, and Billy has to look away. 

“Nah,” He manages, flushed for no reason he can discern and staring straight ahead. “I’m driving.” 

“Oh word? Dude, that’s wicked!” He knows Stu’s looking at him now but he can’t look back. Stop acting like a virgin. 

“Shut up.” Billy grunts, rolls his eyes, but doesn’t really manage to quit smiling. “Are your parents home?”

“Shit- uh, yeah. Ma wasn’t gonna miss the photo op.” Stu shrugs, shakes his head like he doesn’t care but Billy knows him better than that.

Knows Mrs Macher better than that too. The bitch doesn’t mind missing her son’s birthday but every Christmas she forces the whole family together so she can display them all on the cards she mails around. It's inconvenient they’re home but it's fine, he’s got a plan b. He just needs somewhere they can be alone.

It’s weird how easy it is, like slipping right back into the way things were before Stu took a TV to the head. Except it’s not really like it was before either, is it? Because Billy knows exactly what he has to lose. 

So now they’re in his moms car, and maybe Billy’s getting soft but he lets Stu pick the music as they drive. He lets him ramble about every movie he’s seen since October, about Jonesy and how she’s taught herself to shit in the toilet- which Stu’s taken as evidence that she’s some kind of genius. 

He lets him ramble about a million other things too, and breathing has never been easier. He could blame it on the LA smog or maybe some kind of dick-deprivation based delusion, but it all just seems laughable now. After everything he’s tried. 

He’s pretty sure Stu catches on to where they're going the moment he passes the town limits, it’s the way his head turns sharply, the way his eyes go big and his smile goes even bigger. As if that’s possible. He doesn't say anything though, just follows right along when Billy stops at a gas station to buy food for later. 

He doesn’t even have to ask, Stu points out the turn off so casually that he almost thinks he did it specifically so Billy wouldn't have to say anything. Which is such a Stu thing to do, it’s almost annoying. 

It's not right now though. Not even a little.

The short drive through the forest is a lot more nerve wracking than it was the last time they came here, but he wasn’t driving then. Apparently Stu was making it look easy because Billy’s white-knuckling the wheel just to keep from running them into a tree. He’s breathing a lot easier when they finally come out on the other side and the lake comes into view.

It looks almost exactly the way it did last August, only things aren’t quite in bloom yet. The sky is nearly purple overhead, moonlight spilling out over the surface of the water, and he immediately knows this was the right place to come. 

Even if Stu’s parents were home his bedroom is cobwebbed in memories from Christmas, from his visit in April, and this is going to be hard enough without all that haunting him. He only has one memory at this lake, and as much as it embarasses the crap out of him it was kind of a perfect day. No ghosts to trip him up around here.

And with that he’s parking the car, switching off the ignition, and letting the silence surround them. Stu is staring at him, waiting but not pressing, and Billy lets out a long breath. Okay go, start. Say something.

“I uh-” He can’t look at him right now, he's got his gaze locked on the water but he's barely seeing it. “I thought-” I thought I would be safer without you. Stronger, better, less vulnerable. None of that comes out in words, it just dries up in his throat so he swallows it. “But I was wrong.” Is that his fucking pulse hammering against the inside of his skull? Billy feels nauseous. Keep going. Don’t bitch out. “Needed time to figure some stuff out. And I did.” 

In the silence after his words he glances over, sees Stu blink, sees him bite his lip. He looks tensed up, like he’s doing everything to keep himself still. 

 “Yeah?” Stu’s voice is a little unsteady, and fuck, he’s going to end up crying, isn’t he? Billy looks away again, kind of terrified of whatever’s showing on his face and completely unable to hide it.

“Yeah, Mutt.” Even in spite of the way his stomach has tensed up the nickname comes out so easily, it feels like speaking his native tongue after stumbling his way through a second language all year. 

“Fuck,” Stu makes a sound, something that's almost a whine and Billy’s stomach flips. “S’really good to hear you say that again,” His eyes are already wet, lone pupil blown in the darkness. 

Billy’s having trouble breathing and he sort of feels like he’s about to fall off a cliff. He feels ridiculous, he feels like peeling off his own skin, but Stu is looking at him like he’s the only person in the world. 

“I want a sequel.” Billy blurts, feels his face flash burn. 

With you. I want a sequel with you. Say the rest of it, coward.

“With you.” The second it’s out it’s pulling something up behind it and he can’t choke it down. “I want a f-fucking franchise-” Oh jesus christ what’s wrong with you? Slow the hell down. He doesn't slow down though, he unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs into Stu’s lap.

So maybe Billy Loomis is really fucking gay for Stu Macher, and maybe he’s tired of giving a shit.

Chapter Text

So it turns out prom isn't over-hyped at all, it really is pretty fuckin’ magical. Sure, the most magical part doesn't happen at the actual prom but that makes sense doesn't it? Him and Billy deserve their own set piece.  

Even before that, things are just different after Billy visits in April. He feels the difference about as much as he felt dick that day, so like, a lot. He's not sure what did it in the end, but Billy sort of stopped fighting.

He’d looked exhausted, wary and cornered after they hooked up in the entryway, and it only got worse when Stu reminded him that he couldn't cut and run. They had work to do.

And yeah, he could have made things easier if he’d put his spitty-cummy shirt back on, but it was more fun to catch Billy glaring at the cigarette burn. He’s not totally merciless though, plus he never got his pizza earlier so he gave Billy a few minutes alone in his room with the excuse of calling the delivery place.

Billy was perched on the edge of his bed when he got there, looking sort of panicked with his back all straight and his knees pressed together. Usually he's better at hiding his nerves, but in that moment he just seemed like he was freaking out. As adorable (and flattering) as that was, it also put an ache in Stu's chest so he grabbed a fresh shirt and pulled it on.  

Then he noticed that Billy still had his boots on, and it's like he slipped back in time. It wasn’t calculated at all, it just felt natural to drop to his knees and undo them, slide them off his feet the way he used to, and Billy let him. 

He had to savor it, he had no idea when he'd get a chance like that again and he really didn't know how much progress they'd made that day. He knew it felt like a breakthrough but there was no guarantee Billy wouldn't backslide again, and who knew how many months it would be until they'd talk after this? The only guarantee in that moment was Billy's heel in his lap and the laces between his fingers, and it ended too soon. He tucked away the sadness at the back of his throat and he looked up with a smile, but he wasn't ready for Billy's face.

His expression was just completely bare, like if anyone else made that face he might think they were about to start crying. It felt like a peek into the projection room. Seeing the tiny film cells as they feed into the reel, seeing the beams of light before they hit the screen and turn into the intended picture.

But Billy wasn't trying to show him any of that. If Stu had to guess he was scared shitless, so he got them out of the moment. Stood up and flopped on the bed like everything was normal. Like they were just two guys doing a school project. 

“Sooo… what kinda song are we gonna sing for the news lady?” He asked, and Billy looked relieved to be moving on.

It was so easy to work with him again. They're good together, they always have been. Billy was still tense though, Stu didn’t miss the fact that he only managed to eat a half a slice and it wasn’t long after that he said he needed to go. He knew it was coming but it still sucked to hear.

“Oh. Yeah, I mean… you don’t have to, you could-” He knew what the answer was going to be but he couldn’t stop himself. Just in case.

“No.” It’s the word he was expecting but not the tone. He definitely wasn’t expecting Billy’s voice to shake. “I don’t- I can’t. I’m… I just can’t.” I can’t. Not just no, not I don’t want to.

That’s a big difference.

“Gonna miss you, man.” He let himself say it when they got to the door, after Billy finished lacing up his own boots because he pointedly wouldn’t Stu do it.

“I-” Billy paused like his throat was closing up, and he would have given anything to find out what he was choking down. “I’ll see you.” is what he said in the end, so that's still a big goddamn win.

As much as he might have wanted to grab the dickhead and keep him there at all cost, it would have been a bad idea to force it. He’s just gotta wait till Billy is ready to come in from the rain and it looks like he’s not gonna have to wait much longer.

In the meantime he’s been chilling with Jonesy, he’s getting a surprising number of acceptance letters, and he’s been cast as a side character in Tammy’s girl-on-girl psychodrama with Linda Palmer, so that's pretty fun.

It’s been getting worse lately and he kinda can't wait for it to fall apart. It's not that he doesn’t want Tammy to have a hot babe of her own, it’s just that Linda Palmer sucks and the huge rack isn't enough to make up for that. So yeah, maybe he’s been encouraging revenge fantasies.

“Maybe I should screw her boyfriend. Should I screw her boyfriend?” Tammy barely pays attention to him when she gets like this but he doesn’t mind. It's always funny.

“Maybe we should kill her.” It's not a serious suggestion, he just likes to see what he can get away with. “You want me to kill her for you?”

“Maybe I should screw her dad.” That’s the next thing she comes out with, so now he's cracking up. “Would it piss you off more if I screwed Billy or if I screwed your dad?” And that’s enough to have him nearly pissing himself.

Then Linda gets nominated for prom queen and Tammy starts talking about how much she wishes she could Carrie her, which is incredible because she’s still eating this chick out on the regular.

Stu knows she’s not actually gonna do something like that. Maybe she’d try and bang Linda’s boyfriend but she’s not gonna dump pigs blood on her. Probably. She doesn’t premeditate and prepare the way Billy does. Sure she likes to fantasize, but whatever she does the night-of will be all instinct and guts. Stu can respect that, even if he'd push it further in her place.

It’s late April when the bitch really starts giving Tammy the cold shoulder, and that’s the death rattle of their homo mess. Stu’s obviously not opposed to a homo mess, it’s just that you have to be getting something out of it for it to be worth the pain. Either that or you have to like the pain, and he's pretty sure Tammy doesn't.

So they’ve been eating a lot of ice cream and bingeing The X Files, which is what Tammy likes to do when she feels shitty. Sometimes when it’s really bad they watch Baywatch so she can numb out to the oiled up tits and ass bouncing around in red bathing suits. He’s not complaining, he likes bouncy tits as much as the next guy and he sees the way Tammy looks when Linda ignores her in the halls.

He really would kill her but he kinda thinks that might make Tammy sad or something. Girls are weird.

Either way it’s a definite yes when she asks if he wants to go to prom together. He’s been along for the production, of course he wants a front row ticket for the show. Linda will be there with her meat-head and there might not be any pigs blood but he’s pretty sure there's gonna be some kind of cat-fight. Even if there isn't, Tammy’s fun basically anywhere she takes you. Prom won’t be any different.

He’s coasting on that for a while, his own life is just quiet when Billy's away. He misses the noise but it's not like he's gonna start something without him. He's just got to make it to the end of his high school sentence now and that's pretty much a breeze. His grades don’t matter anymore, they aren’t what got him accepted anywhere so it's pretty much 420 every day. On paper it should be a dream, but the extra free time and weed just doesn't hit the same without his favorite leading man.

They always used to find ways to make noise together when it was quiet. Like god, what he wouldn't give for a hunting trip. His dad got a single-barrel shotgun for Christmas and he needs to find out if it will fit in his throat.

His mouth's been way too empty in general lately, it misses Billy's dick as much as the rest of him does. He thinks about calling him pretty much every day, but he's not gonna give in this time. It's not exactly playing hard to get but for Stu it's close. It just feels like the next move has to be Billy's.

By mid-May his patience is pretty much spent though.

It's just that he can’t help thinking about what it would have been like if Billy was here. He thinks about him when he buys his ticket, when he tries on his suit at the mall. He can't not wonder- would you freak out knowing I'm going with Tammy? Would you fuck me about it? He's pretty sure he knows the answer.

He's gonna have to take a Polaroid. Maybe break and call him the night of, something like that.

In the end he doesn't have to though, it's like the bastard’s got a sixth sense because he breaks the silence the day before prom. Stu's in the middle of talking to the dry cleaner dude when Billy's number shows up on his screen, but he's not gonna risk missing the call so he picks up half way through a sentence.

"Billy!" Oops, maybe he's shouting. The poor dry cleaner dude must think he's lost his mind because his eyes go hilariously wide. "Uh- sorry man," He knows for a fact that he's beaming through the apology but the guy just sighs and turns to hunt through the rack.

"Who are you talking to?" Billy skips a greeting, which isn't entirely surprising.

There's no way to answer the question without telling Billy he's going to prom but he's not gonna try and hide it. He’ll lie to a lot of people but not Billy, not about something like this. It’s best coming from the source, if it seems like a secret he'll feel like he got double-crossed.

He’s braced for anger but that’s not what Billy gives him. 

“You’re going to prom.” Stu’s not exactly sure what to call the emotion in his voice but it’s so soft that it almost doesn’t sound like him.

Shit. Because he’d ask Billy to prom right now if he thought he wanted it. He doesn't know if they’d even be allowed, he knows a couple schools in the state banned that shit and his parents would kill him, but he’d do it. Billy doesn’t want that though, he doesn’t want to show up at school holding Stu’s hand where everyone could see and he definitely doesn’t wanna slow dance to the Backstreet Boys.

“Um, yeah man.” He shrugs even though Billy can’t see him, feeling kinda guilty even though he’s pretty sure he didn’t do anything wrong. 

Billy doesn't respond right away so he takes the moment to trade cash for his freshly pressed suit in its clear plastic garment bag. The flashy red fabric glows in the corner of his vision as he steps out of the store, and there’s nothing but more silence on the other end so he decides to keep talking. 

“Figured it only happens once y’know? So yeah…” It sounds like an excuse but it’s not supposed to, so he tries again. “Always thought we’d be at prom together.” That’s it, there’s the truth. He glances around the parking lot before he says the next part, but he’s alone out here. “I mean, y’know, with some chicks or something but…” 

There’s another silence.

“Um.” Billy starts, pauses, and Stu can picture him clenching his jaw, glaring off into the distance. He feels himself smile. “I’m not calling about prom, I’m calling about Daye.” Okay that sounds like an excuse. “Did she ask you about me?”

“I- ” He starts like he has something more to say about the prom thing, something to make Billy feel better, but he can’t think of anything. He should probably just go along with the obvious attempt to change the subject. “Yeah, she did.”

“And what did you say?” It’s almost a snap but he can tell it’s not intentional. 

“I dunno dude,” He really didn’t think much of it at the time, he’d assumed she would ask him about the only other 'survivor' of the massacre.

He’s sitting in his car now, engine off as he tries to think back through what has to have been several hours of recorded conversation. Daye has asked him a lot of funny stuff, so the question about Billy didn’t really stand out against a backdrop of allegations that Sid had a crush on him. At this point he's pretty sure she actually had a crush on his ex-girlfriend.

“Just the normal stuff.” If anything he tried to talk about boring things. “You’re my best friend, we’ve known each other since we were kids, yadda yadda… Actually, I think I might have told her you’re like a brother to me.” It's hard not to laugh about it now, he was just trying to say the kind of crap that normal dudes say about each other when they’re friends.

If he said how he actually feels- even just a fraction of it- he’d be shoving them both out of the closet. He can only imagine the headlines.

“Ew.” He can hear Billy cringing, and it's hard not to laugh at that too.

“Did she uh, did she ask about me?” Stu’s not even sure why he’s asking. It's not like Billy could tell her the truth either. It’s not like Billy would even tell him the truth, so he doesn’t know why he’s started bouncing his knee.

“...Yes.” It sounds begrudging, sounds like he’s embarrassed about it, and that can only be a good thing right? Stu’s knee stops bouncing. “We’re going to have to be careful with that.”

“Yeah- yeah, of course.” Worst case scenario he'll kill Sunny Daye. He wouldn't let that happen to Billy.

“Good.” Billy repeats, and Stu just wishes he could squeeze him.

“Yeah, good. So…" Maybe he shouldn't push but he really doesn't want him to hang up yet. "How’ve you been?” Okay he probably could have come up with something better than that.

“Don’t small talk me dipshit.” Billy snarks, and it's so damn good to hear him sounding like himself.

“Alright, game." He's pretty sure he knows the answer to this next thing but he wants the confirmation. "You going to prom in LA or whatever?”

“No.” There's no hesitation on that. Good. He's really not sure what he would have done if the answer was yes. “Where are you going to school next year?” Stu's not expecting to get a question back and it gives him honest-to-god butterflies.

"I think I’m going with Friedkin.” Leslie helped him weigh all the pros and cons, but he wouldn't have needed her if Billy had just told him where he was going. He did ask, though. That means something right? “Where, uh… where’re you going?”

“I don’t know yet.” Billy says.

“Oh…" It isn't the ideal answer, but it does sound like the truth so that’s still good. "Okay." He's trying not to sound disappointed but he does a little.

It'll be alright either way. If Billy decides to go somewhere else Stu will drop out and follow him.

He says he has to go after that and Stu would talk to him all night if he'd stay on the line, but to be fair he's already got more than he ever expected to be given. It's a little bittersweet though, he can't stop thinking about how he would look in a tux and fine, maybe he's also thinking about slow dancing to the Backstreet Boys. So he's smiling, but he's aching too. What's new?

It’s okay though, he's got stuff to look forward to- after all, his mom hasn't seen his suit yet.

"She's gonna hate this, oh my god." Leslie gushes when he shows it off at home. "You look incredible." So yeah, she gets it.

Of course their mom is coming to town specifically so she can take pictures of him and Tammy, act like a real parent for two minutes. She probably just wants to show off to all her similarly absentee mother friends, so why would he bother posing for a picture she'd actually like? You could say he had her in mind when he picked the suit.

Him and Tammy went shopping in town but everything was boring, so they took a trip to Sacramento. At first he was planning on getting one of those crazy pastel 70's tuxes with the ruffles, but then Tammy pointed out the best suit he's ever seen and the whole vision changed. It's this red satin jacket with a black collar, just like his old party robe. Leslie's right by the way, mom hates it.

She shows up the day of and starts fussing at him, nagging him about the fact that he hasn't had a haircut since they shaved it in the hospital and it grew back out all the same length. She actually drives him to the barber like he's a little boy and honestly that's the worst part of having her home, the overcompensation.

Her reaction to his incredible suit makes it all worthwhile, though. The first time she sees it is when he walks downstairs to meet Tammy, and she's already not super happy about the fact that he's refusing to wear an eye-patch, but the suit is what really cracks her. She plasters on this crazy fake smile like she's trying not to care, but she can't stop talking about it while she takes their pictures.

“Tammy, darling, I can’t believe you let him buy that.” As if Tammy wasn’t all for it. As if Tammy would give a damn.

“We just wanted to match, Ma'.” Stu knows the excuse isn’t gonna satisfy her but he's not really trying to, he just wants to watch her eyes twitch.

“You could have matched with a corsage.” She snipes, Tammy does her best to snicker quietly and he beams for the camera.

Once the hag releases them they pile into the limo with the rest of Tammy’s friends, and someone pops a bottle of bubbly to pass around, real classy shit. That’s before Tammy drags him into an empty classroom for a shot of rum from the flask he managed to sneak in, so he’s comfortably tipsy by the time they actually make it to the glamoured up gym.

It’s all streamers and colorful lighting, pretty much exactly what the movies taught him to expect. There’s even a photographer set up to take pictures, so Tammy drags him over and they ham it up. The pictures turn out horrible too, he can't wait to show them to his mom.

After that they sort of settle in, the DJ isn’t bad and Stu does enjoy a boogie so he’s having a pretty good time. It’s maybe half an hour later that Linda Palmer shows up with her big football boyfriend, and Tammy locks on like a sad homing missile. Showtime.

"Y'know when we were twelve she made me promise we'd show up to this bullshit in matching dresses." They're leaning against the back wall when she says this, away from the crowd.

"Gay." He says, since no one's listening. Tammy snorts and they both look over at Linda in her sparkly pink monstrosity. "She looks like a wedding cake. Your dress is better."

"Wanna do me a favor and ruin hers?" She hands him a mostly-full solo cup full of punch (and rum). It's not exactly pig's blood but it is red, and he's just happy to play his part.

He grooves on over to Linda's crowd and does a great big ‘trip’ walking past her. Actually he pretty much throws the cup at her, which leads to him getting screamed at by a few cheerleaders while Linda’s meathead shoves him against a wall.

He's giggling the whole time, he can't help himself; the last time he got walled the dude that did it jacked him off after. He's pretty sure the meathead's not trying to touch his dick though, and he'd probably be getting his ass beat right now if there weren't chaperones around to pull the dude off.

He kinda wishes they hadn't, he could go for a black eye right about now.

He was too busy getting man-handled to be sure, but he can't spot Linda anywhere so he assumes she ran off to the ladies room and Tammy followed her. He's pretty sure they're gonna end up scissoring in there or something, whatever girls do, so he's on his own for a bit now.

He can entertain himself though. Sort of. He ends up plucking lemon rings from the punch-bowl and waltzing around the dance floor to slip little bits of rind into people’s pockets and down the backs of their shirts, which is pretty fun for a bit. He's out of rind in like five minutes though, so he's back to casing the joint for some shit to get into.

He could try to find the meathead again and start a real fight somewhere they won't get stopped. He could pull the fire alarm. Or he could just light the streamers on fire. Or someone’s dress- he probably shouldn't do that last one though, right? Someone would definitely see and he'd get caught.

Ass-beating it is then.

He's about to go looking for his new nemesis when Linda herself comes storming out of the bathroom, about 15 minutes earlier than he was expecting her. Tammy comes out behind her, still wearing her lipstick and beaming in a way that makes her look half-crazy as she makes her way across the gym to meet him. He can't even begin to guess what just happened in there.

“Oh my god, I'm free.” She snatches his fresh cup of punch and downs it. “I need air and smoke, I have stuff to tell you,” Stu really doesn’t need to be convinced to smoke a joint and hear some gossip, so they head for the back exit and out into the parking lot.

He's so focused on how good the air feels that he doesn’t even see him at first, and even once he does he just thinks he’s hallucinating. Because there’s no way Billy Loomis is here in the parking lot at prom, dressed up like Crybaby. Is there?

Turns out there is because he’s walking right up to them, looking all sexy and focused.

Just from the expression on his face Stu can tell he's got tunnel vision. He doesn’t even seem to notice Tammy, he's too busy looking at Stu. It's like a full on head-to-toe check out, it's the way Billy looks at him in his dreams, so he's totally tongue tied by the time they're actually face to face.

“Uh-" Billy breaks the silence. "Hi. Nice suit, asshole.” He's pink in the cheeks. He's smiling, and he just gave Stu a compliment. Like, almost a normal one.

“Shit, what’s happening, am I dreaming?” It sounds like a joke or a line but it's an honest question.

“Hi Billy!” Tammy makes her presence known and Billy full-on jumps like she’s the serial killer. Ha.

He does one of his big hard blinks and sort of squints at her like an old man. It's pretty cute, and Stu would laugh except he’s still caught up in the leather jacket. And the wavy shoulder length hair. And the big brown eyes. And the ‘Nice suit, asshole’.

Tammy’s saying something about going home with her friend but he’s barely listening, he’s just passing the joint over without question and following Billy.

For a second he's thinking they're gonna have to walk wherever they're going but apparently Billy drove himself, which is kinda crazy. Stu got his license as soon as he could but Billy never bothered, probably cause Stu was always down to be his chauffeur. He seems a little embarrassed when Stu makes a thing about it but he’s still smiling.

He pretty much hasn’t stopped since he showed up and it's totally disarming.

He hasn’t seen him like this in months, not since the day of the massacre when he was so excited he actually couldn’t contain himself the way he usually does. He’s not totally cracked open right now like he was that day, he seems almost nervous, a little hesitant. Maybe like he was at Christmas only… hopeful. Or something like that.

It’s beautiful.

So now he’s in the passenger seat of Billy’s mom’s beamer and he can’t stop talking because Billy keeps smiling, and he’s letting him pick the music, and Stu still thinks he might be losing his mind but he's not gonna question it.

Then he realizes where they're going and he thinks he might explode.

Like. Crashing prom and stealing him away? Already wild. But driving him out to the lake that gave them a perfect day back in September? It’s straight up romantic, not even just Billy-style romantic the way the B cuts were, this is normal people romantic shit.

Stu can tell he's nervous too. It's in the way he holds his shoulders and the tension in his mouth, but there’s something different about it this time. Determined, not defensive.

Sure, he's a little worried he’s gonna be alone again tomorrow morning, but he’s pretty much unsinkable with the way Billy keeps looking at him. Actually it all makes him feel kinda crazy, and he only feels crazier when they actually get to the lake and Billy parks the car.

He switches off the engine and then it's just them and the crickets.

And the silence stretches.

It’s not exactly a tense moment, or maybe it is for Billy but it’s not for Stu. He’s more focused on messy hair tucked behind an ear, dark leather on flushed skin, familiar hands balled into fists so the veins pop… shit. Stu swallows.

“I uh-” Billy is gruff when he speaks up. He's sorta glaring at the lake. Cute. “I thought I…” His voice seems to fall out from under him, and Stu would reach out to squeeze him only he knows that's not what he needs right now. “But I was wrong. Needed to figure some stuff out. And I did.”

It's all he can do not to drop his jaw. I was wrong? Billy is apologizing? Billy Loomis is apologizing? And the fact that he’s talking in the past tense, like, doesn’t that mean he doesn’t need to figure stuff out anymore?

Holy shit. Holy shit-

Stu feels like he might start hyperventilating, and now there’s a sting behind his eye which means he’s gonna start crying if he’s not careful. He’s really trying to be on his best behavior because Billy’s… He doesn’t even know what the fuck Billy is right now, but he doesn't want to screw it up.

“Yeah?” It’s really all he can get out, if he says anything more he might scare him away.

He actually already looks like he might be freaking out, he’s staring off at the lake again and his eyebrows are pinched together in the middle. He takes a visible breath, and then:

“Yeah, Mutt.”

That’s the last straw. Whatever leash he had on himself it tears clean through and he pretty much loses any cool he might have had.

“Fuck,” The way it comes out of him is pathetic, so it’s a good thing Billy’s into that. “S’really good to hear you say that again,” Stu could swear he can see those pupils dilating even in the dark, and he might be kinda hard- in the pants for sure, but in the heart too. Stu’s heart is so erect right now.

“I want a sequel.” Billy blinks forcefully as he says it, looking terrified and determined and a little bit red, and Stu feels himself quiver like a Chihuahua. “With you- I want a f-fucking franchise-” Stu’s heart basically cums.

He barely has time to process what ‘a franchise’ means because Billy is climbing over the console, straddling him. He thinks he’s about to get kissed, but that mouth finds his neck below the collar of his unbuttoned shirt.

He bites and Stu melts.

It’s not the way he does it when they're fucking, there’s no sucking to draw up the blood, it’s like Billy just wants to hold him between his teeth. Stu moans without really realizing it, hands on Billy’s ass as the bulge in his pants makes itself known.

“Billy, sh-shit, anything, anything you want, I'll go to hell with you baby,” He’s babbling, he barely even knows what he's saying but he means every syllable.

“Mm. Good dog.” Billy hums against his neck, the vibration of his voice spreading goosebumps over Stu’s skin. “Good fuckin’ Mutt,”

His dick jumps and Billy clearly feels it because he sits back on it and the pressure has Stu squeezing his eyes shut. Holy shit, if Billy keeps talking like this he’ll be a goner before he gets his pants down.

Billy pulls back a little, hands hot as they find the B on his chest. There's no way he can feel it through all those layers of satin and cotton but it’s magnetic, it's like those parts of them are meant to be touching. That thought makes his throat aches so he does his best to swallow it down, but it comes right back up again.

“Please?” It just falls out and Billy visibly shudders. “Please, please-” His hands move on their own, tugging at the buttons on his shirt so he can bare his mark to the moonlight. “Please?”

“You sure?” It’s the last thing he's expecting Billy to say but he looks so damn serious.

So this is when Stu remembers that the last time Billy used a knife on him he almost stabbed him to death. Maybe, maybe the hesitation isn’t about that. But what else would it be? They’re well past the fear that cutting could lead to cumming.

Sure, Billy might be a scorpion, maybe he stings frogs every once and a while, but Stu’s built up an immunity to the venom. And besides, how many scorpions even care if they sting you again? Billy cares right now. Stu knows what he looks like when he’s bullshitting, and yeah, bullshit can look like a lot of things but it never looks like this. Like fear and hope.

“I trust you.” Is what he says in the end. There's no question, there never has been.

Billy almost looks hurt by the answer and Stu's chest aches. He softens his grip on his hips and slides his fingers up under that leather jacket, hunting out the skin over the waistband of his jeans. He’s so rarely been allowed to touch him like this, for comfort instead of sex, and it's got his eyes stinging all over again. It's like Billy wants him to cry, because this is when he finally decides to kiss him.

It's probably the softest kiss they’ve ever had, almost feels like a first even though it’s far from it. There’s no tongue, no teeth, and the gentleness of it is strangely overstimulating. Billy’s hands move up to his jaw and his thumbs run over Stu's scars.

“Fuck,” Billy whispers against his lips, hands move up to his jaw and his thumbs run over his scars. The next kiss is deeper, harder. “Yeah, ok, yeah- get the fuck in the back seat.” He’s extra gruff all of a sudden, and Stu's pretty sure it’s because they just kissed like virgins but it’s cute either way.

Now they’re scrambling into the back, limbs knocking together until Billy gets him down, laid out across the seats. He’s on Stu’s hips again, both of them making frantic work of the last few buttons holding his shirt on and shoving it off along with the vest and jacket.

Billy sits back to peel off his own jacket and strip out of his t-shirt like he's putting on a show, and Stu's hungry for every inch of bare skin, every hair running up to his navel. He drops his shirt on the floor and reaches into his back pocket, and Stu assumes he's going to pull out a knife but he's not expecting it to be the one he gave him last year.

The realization makes his ribs squeeze tight in the best way possible, because Billy kept it. Just like he kept everything else in that box in the closet, and now Stu’s wondering all that time? Were you carrying me with you in your pocket the whole time you were away?

The click of the knife snaps him to attention dick-first, and it's got him grinding up against Billy’s ass until he shifts to hold him down with more leverage.

“Stay still,” Billy’s gaze rolls down his bare chest but it flicks back up when he asks his question. “You gonna behave for me?”

“Oh god,” Stu nods frantically. “Yeah, yes. Gonna be so good for you, please, fuck, please-” He's begging and Billy’s laughing at him, so everything is the way it should be.

“Ridiculous Mutt,” His voice is velvet as he traces over the tick marks on his hips, the cigarette burn on his stomach, the scars at his sides where the knife sunk in all the way… they bled so much. If he was normal the memory would probably be traumatic or some shit but it just puts butterflies in his stomach.

Billy’s expression is… complicated. He’s pink-cheeked and black-eyed but his eyebrows are pinched up in the middle as he slides his hand over Stu's chest. Purposefully he frames his B between a thumb and a forefinger, takes a breath, and finally lets his knife touch skin.

The metal is cool enough to make Stu shiver. He hears himself gasp, doing his best not to squirm as Billy angles it from the flat to the edge. Stu doesn’t bother to look at the knife, he can’t look away from Billy’s face, can't see anything else. It’s a good thing too, because when Billy draws the first line his expression breaks and it's stunning.

And God, It’s so much better when he's the one doing it.

It's that silent second and then the rising cry of nerve endings, the shock of pain and the rush of endorphins. He feels his blood starting to dew up and Billy's eyes go hooded in a way that spells danger, just before he pushes the blade back through the cut in the other direction.

“Hah," Stu whimpers. "-holy shit,” The glide is smoother now that the knife is lubed and it cuts deeper too. He can feel every layer of skin as it submits, splits and spills blood up like pre-cum. Billy shifts, leans forward and the position pushes his dick against Stu's stomach. He's already so hard, and Stu's mouth is watering. “S-see somethin’ you like?” He’s used this line before but it sounds different now that he’s moaning it out.

“Yeah,” Wait what? “Yeah, I do-” Stu's expecting a fuck off or a shut up pervert, but Billy just straight up acknowledged it. He looks so serious about it too, no hesitation, and it makes Stu feel like he might explode. Or pass out-

The next cut is hilariously grounding.

“F-fuck,” He’s already all full of cotton so the feeling is different, not as stingy but just as sharp. It washes over him slower, this delicious haze of pain and feel-good chemicals all headed straight down.

It’s not exactly easy but he’s being so good, he's really only wiggling a little. Billy’s obviously not making it any easier, of course he isn't. He's rocking his hips, basically pressing their cocks together as he cuts and cuts and cuts-

“Ah! Yeah, just like that,” Stu might be crying, he’s not really sure.

All he knows is he feels so good that he thinks he might actually lose his mind, and it’s getting really hard to keep himself from humping. He feels too dizzy, too overheated and drunk to be thinking much of anything anymore.

“Mmm,” Billy purrs, “Still can’t believe you were so desperate you started slicing yourself up while I was away-”

“Told you,” Stu pants, and from some sentient part of him, way down deep: “Did it for you, j- ah!” His voice breaks as Billy presses the knife into the wound. He doesn't slide it though, he just holds it there, pressing down. “Just somethin’ for the spank-bank, babygirl- nngff… hah,”

“You’re such a whore-” Billy's looking directly into his eye as he lifts the knife and runs his tongue along the bloodied steel.

Stu gets to drink in the moment he tastes it, he gets to see Billy's eyelashes flutter as his eyes fall closed, gets to feel his thighs squeezing in. He can't keep his hips from bucking up, it's really not his fault when he's got the most attractive man in the world squirming in his lap.

He doesn't even see what happens next, he only hears Billy swear, only sees him yank the knife away from his mouth, and then he sees him bleeding. His lower lip specifically, because apparently Billy accidentally cut himself. Or- Stu made Billy accidentally cut himself.

“Hh-holy fuck,” He moans, doesn’t even have the sense to apologize like he did when he kneed him in the face at Christmas. “You’re so hot, you’re so fucking hot, you’re everything- god, I want you to stab me-” It’s just that there’s blood dripping down Billy’s chin and Stu’s already so messed up. “Want you to shove that knife right up in my guts-” Billy shudders and Stu can’t even blink, he feels electric. “C’mon baby, give it to me I need it, hit me, stick it inside me-” Billy lunges for him, and he's ready to get bitten again but he gets kissed instead.

It’s not soft this time, it’s exactly what he was expecting in the front seat, only now Billy’s hand is slapping against the fresh wounds on his chest and he's crying into that bloody mouth. He feels it all in slow motion, the blood trickling down over his ribs, the taste of Billy’s own iron as their tongues slide together and the agonizing friction in his pants.

“Down, Mutt.” Billy’s breath tickles his lips when they break apart, and then the wet edge of the knife finds the place where Billy first split him open last September.

“Oh god-” Stu whimpers, not at all afraid and a little afraid at the same time. His heart rate spikes and his palms sweat, hot and cold, pure ecstasy with a side of adrenaline.

And he’s back in the kitchen- or half of him is.

The other half of him is right here, right now, cramped in the darkness, in the backseat of Billy’s moms car being held. This Billy isn’t miles away behind the eyes. This Billy is right here, right now too, and he’s hesitating. Even through the haze Stu can see the question in his eyes and the tension in the line of his shoulders. Maybe Billy's a little bit in the kitchen too.

“Please?” He means so much more than that one word and he doesn't know how to say any of it in a way that Billy won't hate. I know that night was a lot for you, I don't blame you for going farther than I could take, I trust you because I know you love me- but it seems like he understands.

“Good boy.” He whispers, and it sounds like relief.

Then he gives Stu everything he wants.

It’s not exactly a stabbing but it feels deep, has him panting so hard his fingers are starting to tingle. It takes a minute to realize that the knife is at an angle, slicing sideways into his skin to make space under the surface.

“Aah!” The second wave of pain is the kind that turns him into an animal.

He claws into Billy’s sides, ruts up against his ass again even though the knife is still inside him and it’s agony just to move an inch.

“Aww, poor Mutt,” Billy’s tone makes it clear he’s enjoying himself and Stu's never felt more wanted. “Just a little more-” He saws into the wound.

Stu’s good eye rolls back and something like a howl rips out of him when he pulls the knife out. A fresh gush of blood follows it and he’s bled enough now that he can smell it, it's all over his chest and his suit. Billy’s painted with it too, looking like a wet dream. Wet like the elevator in The Shining.

He's still staring at the new cut, biting his lip as he wipes the knife and snaps it shut. He doesn't look away as he licks his fingers clean or when he unzips Stu’s pants, and Stu’s too hypnotized to do anything more than lift his hips as he pulls him free. His dick pops back up against his stomach and every open wound screams.

“Mmmfff, god-” He slurs out a moan as one of Billy’s hands comes to wrap around him, the other sliding up towards the new hole he made for himself.

The new hole he made for himself.

Stu’s eyes snap open when he puts it all together and Billy’s already moving down between his legs. He’s smirking, jacking him off slowly as his fingers meet the hypersensitive, blood slick skin around the opening in Stu’s side.

“Please,” He’s not even sure if he says it out loud or if he only makes the shape with his mouth, but it doesn't matter because Billy starts pushing in.

The feeling pretty much destroys him.

It's a flesh wound, he can tell Billy hasn't cut into the muscle but it still hurts at least as much as that in a different direction. It’s this ripping, tearing, stretching feeling as he pushes his finger further in. He's making room for himself, and Stu deliriously feels grateful to his own flesh for giving way.

“Sh-shit-” Billy’s voice is rough, and Stu can’t see him through the haze but he knows what that tone is. “Holy shit, good dog,”

He’d be wagging his tail so hard if he had one.

He can barely feel the hand job over the bizarre, euphoric feeling of him literally burrowing under his skin, but he still feels like he might be about to cum. Billy is inside him for real.

This is a whole new kind of virginity.

His brain runs wild on endorphins and he imagines their veins and nerves knitting up with one another, turning into one continuous system, his skin closing in over Billy’s to hold him in forever. He’s basically floating through his very own body horror heaven.

Distantly he hears Billy moan, feels him grinding against his leg, and that's so crazy hot but he doesn’t even have the brain space to process it.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Billy speaks against his skin as he draws that finger back to push it in again, filling the air with the sick, wet sound of fucking.

“God, I wanna shove my whole fist up in your chest,”

“Gahh-” Stu blubbers because he’s just a puppet right now, he’s Billy’s glove, he doesn’t know what the hell he is but it’s exactly what he’s meant to be and he loves it.

He's getting straight up finger fucked and he’s not gonna last that long. Not with Billy jacking him off, definitely not with him grinding on his thigh. Like, holy shit, that’s the entire world, it’s literally the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and it’s all his.

“Kill me-” He moans and Billy growls in response. “Kill me, kill me, kill me-”

He rips his finger out and it feels like getting torn open all over again. Stu wails, he’s got no choice in it and he barely hears himself anyways. Somehow through the storm of everything he feels Billy’s tongue, licking up the blood on his stomach, closer and closer to that ragged hole.

“Holy f-fuck,” he squeaks as wet heat meets the skin just around it.

His toes are already curling, hands already shaking when Billy's tongue actually pushes under his skin. Stu's pretty sure he screams as he starts to move inside him, as he eats him out. He feels like he's being consumed, like he doesn't even know where his body ends and Billy's begins.

He feels him suck, lick, suck, and shit he looks like Brad Pitt in that gay ass vampire movie, blood smeared all over his mouth and chin when he surfaces for air.

"Wanna drain you dry-" His voice is all grit as he shoves his finger back inside.

Stu writhes, cries, and grips at Billy's hair because now its finger, tongue, finger, tongue, hard, soft, wet, throbbing, screaming, blood gushing-

He doesn’t even realize he’s cumming until it sets his whole nervous system on fire.

It's just everything all at once, perfect agony swelling until it's more than his brain can process. He’s pretty sure he actually passes out at the end, or at least his senses shut down for a second and he's just drifting.

When it all fades back his vision is blurred and he feels limp, hypersensitive, and incredible. He feels like Jason himself could show up and he’d just lay here, shaking uncontrollably and waiting to get turned into premarital sex-having meat.

At some point he becomes aware of Billy half slumped over him, breath still heavy like he’s trying to catch it. Even blurred he looks so unbelievably pretty. He looks like he just came.

“Holy shit-” Stu croaks. He doesn’t really mean to say it out loud but even in his spent-ass state he can’t help being excited about that. “Did you just cum in your pants?”

Up until he said that Billy had just been blinking at him sort of bleary, maybe even on the verge of a smile. Now he’s narrowing his eyes and wrinkling up his nose, huffing out a breath.

“Fuck off.” He grumbles, pushing himself up and climbing halfway back into the front seat to dig through the glove-box.

“Can I lick the cum outta your undies?” Stu's pretty sure he knows the answer but you’ve gotta reach for your dreams.

“Fuck off!” Billy repeats himself, only this time he’s sort of laughing, crawling back over the console with the plastic bag of gas station snacks. And that’s not a no is it? “Why are you still yapping? I thought I killed you.”

“Slashers never say die…” It comes out mumbled and shit, his body feels like it weighs a million pounds. He doesn't think he could move if he was set on fire.

“I know that was a Goonies reference but it doesn't make any sense,” Billy sounds like he’s talking to himself. He might be, but Stu’s eyes have drooped closed so he's really not sure. “C’mon idiot, it’s not nap time, sit up.” There are hands on his arms, urging him up, and he really doesn’t want to but Billy is the boss so he does.

“Woo,” Stu's giggling and he has no idea why. His head is spinning too, he feels funny as fuck right now.

“Drink.” Billy is narrowing his eyes, pushing a bottle into his chest. There's something in his voice that Stu doesn't have the brains to recognize.

“Only wanna drink your nut-” He only half-registers what he’s been given, he’s more focused on the bit.

“Oh my god,” Billy snaps, taking the bottle from him to crack it open before shoving it back into his hands. “Drink the stupid soda before you go into shock."

Oh.

“Mhm” Okay, maybe Stu’s lip is a little wobbly but can you blame him? He’s pretty sure if he talks he’s gonna say something mushy, so instead he just sips his orange crush.

“Mhm.” Billy mocks him but he doesn’t seem to have much of a follow up.

He's leaning back into the front, turning the car back on to give them lights and music. He doesn't say anything about it but he chooses The Pixies, and Stu’s heart swells a little bit more.

It's really sweet. Sweet in the same way other people mean it. After finger-fucking his guts Billy is being sweet to him, and it makes him want to… he doesn’t know. Scream, run around in circles, fire a gun into a crowd of people? He's basically just floating in a cloud of hearts when Billy turns to glare at him like he knows what he's thinking.

“Don’t.” It's not even all that defensive. He just sounds resigned as he undoes his pants and starts to wipe himself clean with a napkin from the glove-box.

“Don’t what?” Stu’s perking up from the blood sugar and come on! It’s not like he could just ignore a moment like this. If anything, the fact that he’s not totally gloating or busting up shows that he’s being super well behaved.

Billy just shakes his head, throwing the delicious cum-napkin in Stu's face before crawling over into the back seat again. He’s got a red package under his arm, and it turns out to be a first aid kit. Stu glances down at his gore-smeared torso…. yeah, a band-aid or two would probably be smart.

“You gonna patch me up, Nurse Ratched?” He feels giddy. He feels warm like he's under a spotlight because all of Billy's attention is on him and it has been since he first showed up in the parking lot.

“No,” He starts rolling his eyes before he even finishes the sentence. “I’m gonna give you an ice-pick lobotomy.”

He’s moving in with the antiseptic spray, eyeing up the damage he did. His pupils are blown out again and it has Stu breaking out in goosebumps.

“That's so hot-” He was braced for the sting of the spray but he still tenses up when it drenches all that raw meat. It's cold and sharp, and the hole in his side screams as the muscles move under it. “Hah,” Billy starts to wipe away the watered-down blood. “You should strap me up in that eye-opener thing and make me watch guinea pig- mmfff,” If the B cuts stung to have cleaned, the fuck-hole aches into his bones.

“You’re vile.” Billy is back to purring, dabbing at his screaming flesh with a piece of gauze.

“Ahh,” Stu can tell he’s even being kinda gentle and it's crazy how much it still hurts, it has him panting. “Y-you wanna shove your fist up in my chest.” He knows he sounds smug, how could he not?

“There's a lotta things I wanna shove up in you.” Billy smirks and Stu chokes on whatever wit he had left. He's not used to the confidence, but shit, he's into it.

“Why aren’t you banging me right now?” It might have come across demanding if he didn’t sound so whiny and breathless.

“Do you even have enough blood left to get it up?” Billy snorts.

“Don’t needa' get it up for you to fuck me,” So what if he's still kinda shaky?

Wouldn’t be the end of the world if he passed out mid-fuck. Actually now that he’s thinking about it, it’s pretty hot-

Billy’s already doing that eyebrow raise thing."I literally just got done fucking you and I don't feel like disposing of your corpse tonight. Behave.” He presses a piece of fresh gauze down over the hole like he’s giving it emphasis, and Stu's vision flashes black. “Yeah, thought so.” God, he's hot when he’s smug though, every time Stu gasps his mouth tics up at the side.

He lets Billy patch him up without interruption for a while after that. It's not like he really wanted to skip this part, this is something they haven’t done in months and he didn't realize how much he missed it.

Billy gets kinda stern when he does it, all focused and snapping at him when he doesn't think he's taking it seriously. He looks just like he did in the bathtub at Nancy Thompson's 4th of July party, and it's just one of those things that makes everything clear.

Right now he's leaned in close with this long skinny bandage strip, biting his lip as he presses one end down on the skin next to his hole. He pulls the tape across and sticks it down on the other side so it holds the skin together. He adds a couple more of those strips on either side and just like that the hole is pretty much closed.

There's something almost sad about that, Stu kinda wishes he could keep it open and ready but he's pretty sure he'd catch the black plague or something. It helps that he knows they're gonna do this again. He can tell by the way Billy looks at it.

“Hey,” He says, feeling something so sudden and so massive that he thinks the blood might start gushing out of him again.

“What?” Billy asks, ripping off a piece of medical tape.

“I really love you, dude.” He’s not sure why but he feels shy saying it, and when was the last time he felt shy around Billy? Shit, he’s pretty sure he’s blushing right now and he really doesn't have enough blood left in the tank for that.

Billy presses a folded piece of gauze over the sealed hole and starts taping it in place. His eyebrows are all pulled down, and anyone else would probably think he was mad but Stu knows better.

“You’re such a good dog,” You’re such a good dog. Stu's still savoring it when Billy kisses him. Because he’s saying it back.

“Mmf-” Stu’s so weak and it has nothing to do with the injuries.

At this point he really can't do anything more than let Billy lead, combing his fingers through that long hair the way he’s been wanting to this whole time. He keeps wondering when he’s gonna wake up and realize it's all just a vivid dream, but god, Billy’s hands on his hips feel so real, skin to hot skin. His tongue feels real too, and so do his lips, and-

“You must be trying to dehydrate yourself,” Billy pulls back just to taunt him. “Why’re you crying again, dummy?”

“M’just really happy man,”

“Homo.” Billy says it automatically but there's no bite in it. “You cry when you’re happy and you cum when you’re scared.”

“S’just how you like me.”

“You’re so annoying.” Billy does a little sigh, resting his forehead against Stu’s.

They just stay like that, breathing the same air for a few quiet seconds.

“Always loved you, I think.” Stu’s not sure why he’s saying it now, but he sort of feels like he has to. “D’you remember when we met? I think you were my first crush.” Once he says the words he knows it's true. Billy was definitely his first crush.

“Jesus christ.” Billy groans, tips his head to the side and drops it against his shoulder. Stu can feel his face scrunching up against his neck, which is adorable. “I barely even talked back then.”

It’s true Billy didn’t talk much when they were younger, at least not at first. But he had this really intense way of looking at you, and no one else had ever looked at Stu like that before. 

“Everyone else was boring,” He finds himself mumbling, turning his face to bury his nose in Billy’s hair. “You’re the most interesting person in the world, always have been.” There’s a lazy smile stretching at his lips.

Billy’s fingers find his bicep and he pinches hard, twisting at the skin. It hurts, but in a distant kinda way, it doesn’t have any hope of overcoming the flood of happy chemicals so he just sort of giggles in response. He really is made of marshmallows right now, like he definitely doesn't have control of his limbs anymore.

“Freak.” Billy grumbles and lets go, but when Stu looks down at him he’s all red again. It’s so goddamn cute. Stu is in so much love. 

He'd stay like this as long as possible but it's at this point that the blood soaked clothing under him starts to get really uncomfortable. He doesn't have to say anything though, Billy just nudges him to the side and tugs it out from under him.

"Messy." He says, like he's not the one who made the mess. Like he's not also covered in it.

Stu just sticks his tongue out, and winks, and he's pretty sure he catches Billy blushing again. It's like, maybe ten times easier to get him flustered tonight, and he's really enjoying himself.

Billy's frowning as he starts trying to wipe the blood off his face, neck, and hands, but a lot of it is dried-on. He ends up down by the lake, scrubbing it away with a wet piece of gauze and a full on scowl. Once he's apparently got enough of it off he comes back to the car and dries himself off with his discarded T-shirt.

It's a warm night but it's still May, and Stu can see the goosebumps on his skin as he digs through his backpack. He's got his shoulders hiked up like he's trying not to shiver until he yanks a fresh T-shirt over his head. Then he goes back into the backpack, pulls out a sweatshirt, and hands it to Stu.

It takes his brain a second to catch up to the gesture so he just ends up staring. Billy's borrowed his clothes a thousand and one times but Stu can't remember ever borrowing his.

(The underwear doesn't count.)

"Numbskull-" Billy grumbles. "I didn't actually give you a lobotomy." He drops it in Stu's lap and looks away.

"It's a shirt, you pull it over your head and put your arms through the holes. Think you can handle that?"

Anyone else might think Billy is annoyed but he's not. He's embarrassed. He's got his hands trapped under his arms to keep them from flicking or tapping.

"Oh." He's not sure what else to say. "Right, yeah." Anything more and he's gonna start blubbering again. He's really trying to spare Billy right now.

Putting the shirt on is harder than he expects it to be, the fuck-hole screams again when he lifts his arms over his head. He gets it on though, only wincing a little as he tugs it down. It's a little tighter than he usually wears his stuff in the same way that his clothes are always a little big on Billy. It's also soft, and it smells like him.

Stu might really die tonight- or maybe he already is dead and he somehow got into heaven. It's been a big night.

"Thanks," for so much more than the shirt.

Billy just shrugs. He keeps his face down but Stu can see the blush crawling up the back of his neck.

“Hmmf,” Billy does a little grunt and stretch. Kinda reminds Stu of Jonesy. “D’you have more weed or did you give it all to that bitch?” That bitch. It sounds hilariously venomless right now. 

“Tammy?” He snorts, can you blame him? “Nah, there’s a joint in my jacket pocket.” He makes half an attempt to pat around for it, but he barely has the energy to sit up so it’s not very effective. “Wherever that is.”

Billy peels away for a second, leaving a cold strip along his side where they’d been pressed together, but he sits back in the same spot when the joint is located. He lights it, taking a lung full before he passes it over.

After a couple greedy puffs Stu feels like a million bucks. The weed pairs well with his post-pain high and whatever booze is left in his system- like a nice wine and cheese. He’s giggling at himself and he must look about as blitzed as he is because in the end Billy just shakes his head.

"Don't hog," He says, holding his hand out for the joint.

Yeaaah, Stu could hand it over but he's getting away with everything tonight and he's feeling playful. He takes another long inhale, drops an arm around Billy's shoulders and pulls him in.

For a second there's something like panic in his posture and Stu almost stops but then Billy leans in to meet him. There was about a 50 percent chance that he was gonna push him away anyway, but instead there's a warm hand on his shoulder when their lips touch. He fills Billy's lungs with smoke, and Billy takes it all.

He doesn't pull away when he runs out of air either, he presses in and slides his tongue into Stu's mouth all lazy and slow. Somehow they end up horizontal on the seats like before, just making out until the joint goes out in his hand. It's not the kind of kissing that goes anywhere and Stu's got no problem with that. Cause since when is Billy Loomis down for this?

It's easy to lose himself in it, he's got no idea how much time has passed when Billy finally does pull away. He doesn't go far, just props himself up a little and takes the joint back to re-light it. It dangles from his lips, smoking lazily as he grabs the snack bag and pulls out the M&M’s. 

“So uh,” Billy’s focused on tearing the package open, intense in a way that makes it obvious he’s trying to distract himself from whatever he has to say next. “Decided I’m going to WCU.”

“Oh! Yeah??” Stu's really trying to sound chill but he’s failing, his voice just went so high.

“How else are we supposed to make a sequel?” Billy says it like it’s nothing but it's not. It's definitely something. “Gonna be kinda tough if we’re on opposite sides of the country, idiot.”

Okay be cool, don't freak out.

“Yeah, true. " Very cool, very chill. "Also messes with the fucking part. Not that I’m opposed to phone sex-”

“Shut up,” Billy snickers.

“You gonna live on campus?” Please say no, please say you’ll move in with with me-

“Share a crappy little room with a stranger? Not likely.” Okay yeah true, Billy plus a random normie is a bad combination. Billy plus Stu though…

“Yeah… I gotta get a place too, no dorms on Friedkin Campus.” Just say it. Just ask the question. “I mean, would you wanna-”

“I can’t.” Billy cuts him off so fast it feels like a slap.

It would probably hurt more if he hadn’t tensed up fast like he was the one about to get hit. Honestly Stu doesn’t know what the hell to say, if he opens his mouth it's gonna be obvious how disappointed he is.

Billy will react to that, of course he will. What are the odds it’s gonna start a fight? He really doesn’t want to fight, not tonight. It turns out he doesn't need to worry about that though, because against all odds Billy saves them from that fate.

“I just can’t yet.” Yet. He just can’t yet. And that's okay actually, Stu can wait. 

“Long as I can come over and tap that ass on the regular, I’m good.” He says.

Billy huffs out a breath before he calls him an asshole, but he's got a half smile that he can't seem to put away.

Eventually he turns off the car to save the battery and they just chill like that in the quiet dark, smoking and eating gas station snacks. Billy’s talking about sequels- maybe Dawn of the Dead or Psycho II, but all that really matters is his voice, soft and low.

For the first time in forever, everything is right in the world as Stu falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Billy wakes up with a crick in his neck and sun bleaching his eyelids. His back is against the vinyl seat and Stu's body is caging him in. One of those big hands is pushed up under his t-shirt, hot against his lower back. He’s still out-cold, drooling, hair sticking up in every direction. He can’t breathe for a second but it passes.

Maybe he's losing his mind. He’s not even 100% sure that last night was real, and if it was real then who the fuck even is he anymore? I want a franchise. Shit. Just remembering it his face starts to burn, but the idea of trying to take it back pushes his stomach up into his throat. It's not like it would work anyway. And maybe it kind of felt good to say that stuff. Maybe Billy really likes-

Get it together fag, don’t be a girl about it.

Stu starts to stir and for some reason he snaps his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. But what the fuck is he doing actually? Why are you being weird??

Stu yawns, oblivious to the small crisis in progress against his chest. When he stretches he hooks his leg over Billy's hip, so now there’s a semi-stiff dick pressed against his stomach.

“Did you have a nice dream, Stu?” It’s perfectly in-character to call him out for the morning wood, he’s acting totally normal. He keeps his eyes closed when he speaks though, he doesn't know what his face will do if he actually looks at Stu right now.

“God, yeah-” Stu pulls him a little closer and he can feel the rumble of his voice through his chest. “You want me to tell you ‘bout it?"

“No," He snorts. "I’m better off not knowing what happens in that cum-dumpster you call a brain.”

“Oooh, you scared baby? Scared of my sick, twisted mind-” Stu snickers, pushing his hips forward for punctuation and Billy smiles against his will.

“You’re an idiot.” At this point he’s steady enough to open his eyes. 

He zeroes in on Stu's chest, on his own sweater. Right, because he lent it to him after they fucked last night. Something in his stomach squirms at the memory of that.

He'd only ever lent clothing to one person before, and she's dead now. It's not like he even wanted to do that shit with her, it's just what you do when you're someone's boyfriend. He was playing his part back then but he didn't have to give Stu his sweater last night, he just did. He doesn't even know why his brain is making a thing about it, he's been borrowing Stu's clothes forever.

Plus Stu's still half-humping him so there's other stuff to focus on. He shifts, freeing an arm to press against his freshly re-cut mark through a layer of fleece and three layers of gauze.

“Billy…” Stu whines, dick distinctively harder than it was a second ago because of course it is. 

“Down, Mutt.” He’s snickering as he says it, poking the gauze again for a replay. “If you keep humping my leg I’ll have to get the spray bottle.” 

“Oh, fuck-” Stu curls in closer, fingers digging into his skin before he pushes out a slow breath. “P-please?"

There's something about the way the sun hits Stu's face, about the way their bodies fit together that's got something giant rushing up inside him. He feels happy and he feels terrified. He feels like hes clutching a bomb to his chest, and if anyone tried to take that bomb away from him he'd detonate it himself.

“Do you also beg Beckett to treat you like a badly behaved dog?” He’s not even sure why he’s thinking about that bitch right now, she’s not a threat. Stu didn’t even hesitate to leave her at prom last night. She’s nothing.

The bomb against his chest ticks.

“Tammy’s not my owner.” Stu sounds like he’s pouting and it’s so very much the right thing to say that it’s almost irritating. “I only cum when you call, baby.” Well now he just sounds proud of his dumb joke.

“You should be neutered.” Billy presses his knuckles against Stu’s stomach, but he doesn’t really push. “Also you have morning breath and I need coffee, get off me so we can get the hell out of here.”

“Awww” Stu snickers but he lets Billy go, wincing as he pushes himself up to sit. Ugh. It's good seeing him wince. “I know you don’t want Stu junior chopped off though, you looooove my big beautiful dick. My thick, juicy meat, my-” Jesus Christ.

"That's not what neutering is," He rolls his eyes. "-vets aren't running around slicing off dicks, it's the balls they take."

"Okay, well you love my balls too. My big, beautiful-"

Stu won’t stop talking about his dumb dick and balls no matter how many times Billy kicks or punches. He basically doesn’t let up until they get to the diner, and even then he’s pretty sure he only shuts up because he doesn't want to get them kicked out.

They’re in a corner booth now. It isn’t the same place they sat the last time they were here and Billy doesn't like that, but at least there’s no one sitting anywhere near. It matters less when he has a little coffee and food in him. He always forgets how much his body needs that stuff, he kind of only ate beef jerky and M&M's yesterday. Stu’s got one of those lumberjack platters and he’s drenched the majority of it in both syrup and hot sauce. It’s deeply disturbing, and Billy’s about to say so when his phone starts ringing.

There’s only a few people that ever call him and he’s sitting across from one of them. Goddamnit. He saw all the missed calls this morning, and it's not exactly surprising but he really does not want to talk to her right now. He also doesn’t want her to flip out and report him as a missing person.

“I’m fine, mom.” He doesn’t bother to let her say hi, he wants this conversation to be over right now. 

He can feel Stu looking at him and he almost wants to kick him. Instead he just ends up sliding his foot under the table to press it against his leg without ever really deciding to forgo the violence.

“-Billy? Oh thank god, where are you, are you okay? Oh god, I-” She sounds like she’s crying, like so over the top. 

“I said I’m fine.” He dropped his fork a few seconds ago, now he’s digging his nails into his palms because he's not sure what his free hand will do if he frees it. “...Visiting Stu.” It’s probably the best way to calm her down, she’s always been permissive when it comes to him. “I’ll be home tomorrow.” Stu’s feet come together around his ankle, and when Billy looks up he’s beaming. Asshole.

“Billy, I know you’re angry with me but taking my car is-” The least you deserve.

“I said I’ll be home tomorrow.” He snaps, and then he ends the call.

Stu’s feet are still clamped around his under the table but he’s not grinning anymore, his mouth is turned down at the corners. Billy almost thinks he should tell him to shut up, except he hasn’t said anything. 

“Shut up.” He says it anyway, then he stuffs a chunk of hash-brown in his mouth and chews. 

It tastes like nothing and it’s so hard to get himself to swallow that he’s worried he’s about to gag when he finally gets it down. It’s just the sound of the diner around them, getting louder until Stu decides to open his mouth.

“I know it's been a while but…. Kinda crazy your mom’s back, huh?” Stu’s being careful that much is obvious.

He could swear this kind of hedging used to be more annoying, but right now he mostly just feels like he’s way too visible. He stares down at his plate like there's something interesting there.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” It comes out automatically but he's not sure if it’s true. If he never told Stu about his dad and Maureen he would have been totally alone trying to make his movie. He wouldn't have ended up here right now. "… She’s moving back in with my dad.” It's harder to get it out than it was to shut down, and the moment he says it he regrets it.

There’s way too much in his voice, why the hell is he letting himself sound like that? This is exactly the kind of shit he was trying to avoid and he was right, he needs to learn to shut up again-

“Why would she do that?” Stu sounds angry, and for some reason that makes him unclench his fists under the table

He talked to Stu about shit before. Kind of. He just didn’t didn't feel so unburied back then. Right now he’s so close to the surface he’s afraid he’ll start to evaporate in the sun, and the longer he’s quiet the worse it gets. Speak. 

“Said it’s cause I’ll be moving out." Once he's talking it all comes up fast, burning his throat like vomit. "Said a bunch of bullshit about how me almost dying made her look at stuff different, like oh suddenly we're a family so we need to forgive each other." His eyes are on Stu’s face but he’s not really seeing him when he says it, he’s not really seeing anything at all. "I need him out of my life.”

“He’s on the cast list for the sequel right? Please say he is, I’ve been wanting to cast that bastard for years now.”

It’s kind of stupid, cause it’s not like he ever thought Stu was going to say no to this, he’s never been Hank's biggest fan. It’s just that Stu’s always at his side before he has to ask, every time. He’s the only one that gets it. Billy didn't think he wanted to be got before, but now he knows how it feels to go without it.

“Yeah.” He says, blinks hard. “He’s on the cast list.”

“You’re uh- you’re coming to my place right? You’ll sleep over before you drive back to L.A tomorrow?” There’s so much bare hope in his voice and it puts a jolt of panic high in Billy’s chest.

He almost says no, almost blurts it out, but he ends up chewing the inside of his cheek instead. Because he actually doesn’t want to say no. He really wants to sleep over at Stu’s house. 

“Sure, whatever.” He thinks he manages to sound pretty casual.

“Dope.” Stu’s grinning so bright it’s almost hard to look at his face again. “You done? You wanna get outta here?” He reaches across the table to snatch a hash-brown, and Billy doesn't bother to scold him. Whatever. He's finished with it anyway.

When he pulls his foot away from Stu’s it’s because they’re leaving, and any cloud his mom brought with her is blown away somewhere on the highway.

“A good sequel doesn't echo the original, it's gotta like, rhyme with it.” It's an idea that's been bouncing around the inside of his skull for weeks but he hasn't really put it in words until now.

“Damn… That's deep, man." Stu's got his seat reclined almost all the way, feet on the dashboard in a way that must be deeply unsafe at the speed they're going. "What the fuck does it mean though?”

“It’s like, it needs to feel the same even if you recast-" Billy's focused, eyes on the road as he searches for the right words. "-pacing, dialogue, visuals, whatever. Needs to fit but it's also gotta be fresh, you know? Higher stakes."

"Right yeah, like same album, different track turned up to eleven."

"Bigger and bloodier doesn't come off try-hard if you actually have a new story worth telling. I’m talking Dawn of the Dead-”

“Aliens.” Stu snickers and Billy has to roll his eyes, even if it's obvious that he's just acting like a brat to get a reaction.

“Contentious.” He tries to sneer but it's probably closer to a smile.

“Fine, Psycho II.” Stu relents. He's still snickering, but Billy can't find it in himself to be annoyed about that.

“Better.”

“Sooooo-" Stu does a little drum-roll on his knees. "-if we want it to rhyme we dispatch your dad in September, then use the rest of the year to get ready for the main event. Right?”

“Exactly.” If he wasn’t driving he might have kissed him.

"So with the original killers cremated-" Stu puts a big set of air quotes around 'original killers'. "We goin' with a copycat or…?"

"Duh, it's perfect with the book coming out." It feels so much more real talking aboht this with Stu. It sounds like something he can actually make happen. "More than enough material to inspire a budding fanatic, and you know Daye is shopping the rights around for a film."

"Hell yeah, bitch loved that movies don't make psychos line!" The Mutt is near bouncing. "Now we got psychos makin' a movie that gets turned into a book that gets turned into a movie that makes psychos. Tight as fuck, baby."

Billy feels warm, but it's only because of the sun.

When they get to Macher house 2.0, Stu’s mom is there to greet them. It's not ideal because he was half-planning on railing her son against the table in the entryway. She seems confused seeing Billy, then she asks Stu about his night with Tammy. That's when he has to start white-knuckling the interaction. 

He’s not going to make a big deal about it, he doesn’t need her to know that Stu was with him last night when she clearly assumed he was off having premarital sex with a girl. Boys will be boys or whatever. He remembers her saying that when Leslie used to whine about how they let Stu start dating so much younger than her.

He remembers that day really clearly for some reason. He was there for dinner when Stu decided to ask if he could take Madelyn Burns to the movies. That was back when they were stricter, when they were around more often. Billy was hoping they’d say no, telling himself that it was because he should have been the first one to go on a date. They didn’t say no though, and Stu took that bitch to some shitty G-rated movie. Billy trashed his room that night. Sometimes he hates remembering things.

Anyway. 

Stu sells his mom a bunch of bullshit and she fusses over him until she's apparently got the information she wants, and just when he's thinking they might have a chance to escape she rounds back on him.

“Oh, honey it's so good to see you! Your hair’s getting a little long isn’t it? Aren’t there any barbers out in LA?” She says the last part like it’s a joke and he has to fake laugh along.

Passive aggressive bitch. Maybe he should talk to Stu about killing his parents too.

“That’s old school ma', get with the times.” Stu shakes his head at her. “You want him to get a high and tight like dad? Look at him, he’s a lady-killer!” He wants to kick Stu but It's possible that he wants to kiss him again too. When did you get so corny? 

He's not sure, but the urge overtakes him when they get up to Stu’s room and he lunges. He might have been about to say something but he falls into it without missing a beat.

There are warm hands at Billy’s waist, sliding around to the small of his back and yanking him closer. Stu smells like sweat, blood, and a little bit of weed all clinging to his clothes. Billy probably smells the same, so thank god Mrs Macher wears enough perfume to drown them both out.

“Shower,” His skin feels sticky and wrong, it has since this morning but it's been getting worse ever since and it's starting to get really distracting.

“Jeez am I that rank?” It doesn’t sound like a real question so he's just waiting for the hook. “Usually you like me sweaty.”

“That's vile,” His stomach drops and it comes out a little too fast. “-of course I don’t-” 

“I mean you always wanted me to skip civics so we could hook up after I had gym-” No, no, why does he have to notice shit like that? 

“Stop talking." He blurts. Stu just took the upper hand, but his brain is moving too fast now and he can't come up with a better response. "I’m taking a shower.” He pulls away, heading for the en-suite so he can hide his increasingly red face.

Stop running away, coward. Billy stops himself at the bathroom door and turns back to look at Stu.

He's expecting him to look cocky but Instead he looks unsure. For some reason that's worse than cocky so Billy sort of panics and takes off his shirt. It works at least. Stu blinks, expression flipping from pathetic to dick-dumb so Billy just keeps going, stripping off his pants and underwear in quick succession.

He can't help but remember the first time he took his clothes off in front of Stu like that. He'd done it before in the locker rooms but there were other guys around, Billy did his best to keep his eye to himself and he assumes Stu did the same.

But the night they killed Maureen it was just the two of them, and Stu was openly staring when he stripped down to his blood-soaked briefs. Then he kissed him for the second time and learned what kissing is like when you don't despise the person sucking on your lip.

He ran off to shower after that, like he was trying to do again now. He can still feel the hot, excited panic that ran through him when he threw his briefs back at Stu from the other side of the bathroom door. He felt like he'd just made a terrible, maybe dangerous mistake that was too much fun to regret.

Now there's no door between them, Billy is putting himself on full display and his Mutt is whining in a way that makes him feel unstoppable. He was stupid to think he had lost any ground.

He turns and steps into the bathroom without closing the door, and he’s only gotten as far as turning on the water when Stu crashes into the room behind him.

“Did you need something, Stu?" He manages to sound annoyed about it.

“Yeah,” Stu's practically panting as he tears off his wrinkled suit pants. Cute.

“Are you gonna be a good boy and ask nicely?” 

“C- can I please come in the shower with you? Please, I need it so bad, Billy-”

“You need to shower with me?” He’s laughing but he knows Stu’s being serious in his current state. Poor thing. 

“God yeah, please, please,” He nods frantically, only visible as a shadow on the other side of the shower curtain like some kind of Psycho porn-parody.

“Such a whiny dog,” Billy drawls, shaking his head, but he holds the shower curtain back to let him in anyway.

“Fuck, you look so good wet,” Stu beams as he climbs in behind him. He's staring again, open-mouthed.

It's like he never gets bored, and Billy’s skin burns in a way that has nothing to do with the water hitting his back.

“Take your bandages off before they get gross, dummy.” He tells Stu to do it but he’s already peeling back the adhesive edge. 

Stu gasps, shivering as steam and spray hits the barely scabbed cuts on his chest. It’s still so red, raw and raised around the edges.

He traces it, only lightly, but Stu still makes a needy little sound. There are goosebumps spreading out over his skin as water runs over the hole he made last night. My hole. Flakes of dried blood wash away, carried down in little rivers of hot water on Stu's skin, and Billy's mouth waters. He got to stick his tongue in that last night. God. Killing a man felt less depraved.

He’s going to have to learn how to do stitches. 

If he had more self awareness right now he might be embarrassed about the fact that he's getting hard as fast as he is. Hard enough that his dick is poking Stu’s leg, but Stu is hard too and his dick has been poking Billy’s leg since he joined him so they’re even.

“Hah, Billy,” Stu groans, leaning forward until their foreheads press together. 

“What?” He asks, like he doesn’t know exactly what he's doing. 

“Mmmff-” Stu's eyebrows scrunch up in the middle, doing all the pleading he can with eyes and his fingers digging into Billy's waist. 

“Nonsense.” He's not even trying to sound stern, he's having too much fun for that.

Just to make it worse he drops his hand, letting his knuckles brush over the head like it was an accident. Stu's mouth drops open and he steps forward, boxing Billy in against the wet tile. He’s looking at him like meat, and Billy's hopelessly into that.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He’s also into making Stu wait. 

“Huh?” The look of despair on his face is priceless. He grips a little harder like he’s trying to stop Billy from pulling away, which he's not.

It's tight enough to hurt at this point, and the feeling settles slow in his stomach, making him twitch as he reaches to the shower caddy for the soap.

“I’m not here to get you off, I’m here to take a shower.” The corners of his mouth pull up as Stu's nails bite into his skin.

“Are you kidding?” Ha. Brat.

“Are you sure you want to take that tone with me?” His free hand still hangs between them so he lets his fingertips run over that twitching flesh before he takes it in hand. Stu actually looks hopeful until he starts squeezing harder.

“No...” He squeaks, halfway to a wince. "M'sorry…" Billy likes that a lot.

“Then be patient.” He's grinning as he starts to soap himself up, he can’t help it. 

The show he's putting on is subtle, he’s basically just doing it normally but it doesn't take much for Stu. He isn’t blinking and if Billy didn’t know better he’d think he was just angry. The fun part is that he sort of is, but it’s the kind of anger that turns him rabid, pumps him full of whatever chemicals make him the way he is but so much more. 

Billy turns around to face the spray and rinse, and of course Stu takes advantage of the moment. He steps forward, dick slotting right up against his ass. It’s only now that he wonders, are you going to let him fuck you today? Do you want that? He actually doesn't know the answer.

On the one hand it felt really good when he tried it and he hasn’t had it in months. On the other hand if they're going to have a franchise together he's not going to be the one who takes it all the time, he's not that kind of faggot. Besides, it always left him feeling totally cracked open after and he already skinned himself voluntarily last night. 

He realizes all at once that he's tensed up, whole body turned to rock. Stu’s grip has softened, chin resting on his shoulder. He's not sure when that happened. It's like he knows what Billy was thinking about. Ugh. His stomach flips over and he forces himself to swallow. There’s this urge at the edge of his mind, telling him he should start yelling and shove Stu off, make it his fault.

But he doesn’t need to do any of that, he just needs to chill. Breathe. Be normal.

“That doesn’t feel like patience, Stu.” It’s good, it comes out smooth and not at all like he's bitching out. Because he's not, he's still the boss. “Forget the spray bottle, you need a shock collar.” He turns back around and faces his dog.

“Billyy-” That lone pupil is so blown out that he looks like he’s had another head injury.

“Shh.” He cuts him off, peeling one of the hands off his waist and dropping the soap into his palm. “It’s your turn.” Stu huffs at him, but then he nods and a new light hits his gaze that makes Billy reconsider the order.

It's too late though, because obviously Stu starts by rubbing the soap bar all over his nipples and making kissy faces. It's more absurd than arousing, a mockery of the way pornstars writhe around at the start of a nudie flick. He likes Stu's version a lot better, mostly because he's also wincing as the soap runs into his cuts. 

"Whore," Billy’s laughing as he slaps Stu's hands away from his chest, but the idiot just grins and starts soaping up his dick instead. It's so, so stupid but maybe it's also extremely distracting. “Really?”

“What?” He's clearly so proud of himself. “I'm not doing anything… Oops!” He makes an act of dropping the soap. “Clumsy me-” He makes an act of dropping the soap, then turns around and wiggles his fucking ass as he bends over to pick it up.

Billy sort of snaps. 

He doesn’t think about what he’s doing, he just swings a hand forward and slaps Stu directly in the balls like it's the most natural thing in the world. He lurches, makes a sound Billy’s never heard before, and leans into the wall clutching himself. Billy can’t see his face but he’s shaking beautifully.

“Holy shit,” Now he’s the one crowding Stu against the wall. “You liked that.” Stu’s ears go bright red. 

“C-can’t help it, man, I'm dyin' here! You got me so worked up, m'just- oooh,” Stu's voice falls into a moan when Billy starts groping over his scarred hips and down between his legs to his- yes, still very hard dick. "Please?"

“Please what?" Billy is distracted by the hot, wet skin under his fingers. It's like velvet there, delicate and quick to flush when its filled with blood. Sensitive. Vulnerable. "You want me you slap you in the dick this time? Are you that kind of freak?”

“Don’t care, whatever you want, do whatever you want to me-” Stu is babbling like he thinks he’s running out of time. “Just please, please don't stop touching me, I'll do anything-”

Billy decides he's had his fill of teasing.

“We’re clean enough, get out.” Part of him wants to jack Stu off right here and watch him cum all over the wet tile. His fingers are starting to prune though, and he’s not going to be able to get past that.

Stu perks up immediately, moving to throw open the shower curtain even though he’s still got soap bubbles sliding down his ass and legs. 

“Rinse yourself off first, dumbass.”

“What, you don’t like Dial flavored dick?” He quips, but he steps back under the spray like a good boy.

“No, I like dick flavored dick, hurry up.” Billy’s not sure what possesses him to say that, but Stu makes a choking sound in response so he can't bring himself to regret it.

They’re both in a rush now, Stu’s panting as he dries himself off and Billy's not being nearly as thorough with his towel as he usually is. They both know what they’re about to do.

Something comes bubbling up into his chest that turns out to be laughter, and Stu is laughing too by the time they’re falling into bed. He lands on top, so Billy rolls them over and straddles his hips.

“Ah!” Stu yelps. “Hah, fuck,” Stu's got his eyes squeezed shut and he’s all tensed up.

Hot. So hot it takes Billy a couple seconds to realize he’s the one causing the pain. 

His knee had been pressing right up against the New Hole. At some point while they were wrestling one of the steri-strips got torn off and the edges of the cut are pulling back a little. It’s bleeding again but it's just a trickle.

“...how does it feel?” The question seems to catch Stu off guard, but once it clicks his eyes go hooded.

“So good,” The bastard knows what he’s doing and it's got Billy leaking against his stomach. Humiliating- “It hurts much.” But shit, it's hard to care. 

“Yeah?” He moves his leg out of the way, sliding his hand up Stu’s side to his New Hole.

“When you touch it? Agony, baby.” God, he sounds so needy.

“Pervert.” Billy's trying not to sound the same but Stu's hands are so hot on his skin.

“Hurt s-so much, think I blacked out while you were fucking me,” Billy presses down a little harder, feels Stu's breath stutter through his chest. “Hh- hah, ah, yeah,”

He can't look away from Stu's pretty gash, framed between his fingers.

Only a little over half a year after he almost stabbed him to death, and he still trusts Billy enough to cut him open again. More than that, he asked him for it, even though Billy's been… the way he was before May. Even though he left, Stu just took him right back in. He takes you back in every time, no matter what you do.

There’s something rushing up again but its not laughter and his throat closes reflexively to hold it down.

Fuck, Stu is-

"S-so good," So much better than you deserve, god help you if he ever figures that out.

Billy chokes on that thought, thinks it might start pouring out of his mouth if he doesn't do something about it. Make him feel good, just make him feel good- It’s been forever since he last sucked dick and he's about to try to swallow as much as he can in one go, but then his eyes fall lower. 

Stu’s other hole, the more traditional one. Billy bites his lip.

He's come to terms with the effect it has on him. The way it feels to fuck, to finger, the way it looks slicked with lube or spit or blood, the way it looks when he's done with it… like fine, he's really into Stu's asshole. Because apparently he's a flaming homosexual these days.

He can't help but think back to what Stu did to him in the back of his truck last September, and again at Christmas. The way he ate him out there. It should have been vile, full stop, but it felt so good that he almost couldn't stand it. He wonders if Stu's ever had anyone do that to him before but no way. No way that whore Tammy Beckett was eating it, Stu would have bragged about that.

…They literally just got out of the shower, it's not like there's going to be a better time.

Billy's plan changes on the spot and before he can freak out about it he's shoving Stu's knees back toward his shoulders. He's not bitching out now but there's still a second of hesitation before he leans in. This is kind of the last thing on the faggot list but he's already come this far so fuck it. He buries his face between fuzzy thighs and his tongue touches hot, soft skin.

He only gets a second of contact before Stu’s whole body flexes so hard that he almost shoves him off the bed. He might have been offended, only Stu's using his legs to pull him back in the moment he gets control of himself.

“Oh holy shit!” He's fire engine red, eyebrows all the way up and mouth all the way open. "Did… did you mean to do that?" 

“What, do you want me to stop?” Billy couldn't have hoped for a more satisfying reaction.

“Nnno- no, please, I’ll do anything baby, I’ll be so good-” Stu babbles and it’s more than enough to set him off, he has no real drive to keep teasing. His tongue touches down again- “Mmfff, goddamn,” Stu gasps, big hands moving into his hair.

Turns out it doesn't taste all that different from dick or balls. Feels different though, It's tight under his mouth but absurdly soft at the same time. He can feel the muscle relaxing under the skin as he licks over it.

He starts slow but it builds in a way that feels entirely out of his control because Stu keeps yipping. Like these high pitched little sounds, hips twitching, eyes squeezed shut, and Billy hasn't even tried to stick anything inside him. He pulls back for a second, just to enjoy the view. Stu's cock hangs heavy, dripping helplessly onto his stomach. He's still bright red in the face, straight up drooling and shaking. Billy feels an immense amount of something he doesn't want to put a name to.

“Gah-” Stu sounds wasted. “Hhuh, B-Billy,” It's now that he starts pushing his tongue in, just a little. “Oh god-" Yeah motherfucker, that's how that feels.

Billy finds himself humming into the skin, trying to press in closer, pushing further again and again, and Stu makes another new sound, thighs squeezing in against his head. His jaw is starting to ache but that hardly matters when he can feel him starting to open up. His body melts on Billy's tongue the same way it does when he cuts him open.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-" Stu's doing this little whispered chant, and Billy gets lost in it until he starts tugging on his hair and saying something new. "-please, fuck, please-" He might as well be begging for his own life. "C'mon I need you inside me, m'not gonna last, Billy-"

On any other day he might have been mean about it but that's not what he wants right now. What he wants is to crawl under his skin and bury himself in his guts. Stu cries out when Billy pulls his mouth away, but he settles when he sees him grabbing the lube.

He's giggling wildly by the time Billy is pushing him back down to the mattress. It's this crazy, giddy sound, and there was a time when he would have thought he was laughing at him, but he's not. He's being a good boy, holding his own legs open for access.

Billy has to look away from his face so he focuses on the finger he's pushing into him. It's crazy but he doesn't even need to take it slow, every part of Stu's body is pulling him in. He's halfway delirious when he leans in to lick at the skin stretching around him, and Stu makes a ridiculous series of sounds, halfway between hysterical laughter and full on tears.

“Dramatic,” He taunts. He’s already giving him a second finger and it's just as easy as the first. 

“Fff… mmf,” Stu finally manages a coherent word: ”Fuck!”

“Shh, noisy dog.” As much as he’s enjoying the reactions, Stu's cross-wearing mother is two floors down. “Stop barking.”

“Mmmff, mmg-” He's definitely quieter now that he's muffling it himself. No less pitiful, but Billy's not mad about that.

“Poor Mutt,” He hums, curling his fingers. Stu goes right back up to full volume.

He's thinking he should flip him over so he can muffle him with the mattress, but he sort of really wants to see his face for some dumb reason. The solution comes as pulls his fingers out, sits back to slick himself and spots his own discarded underwear on the bed. He snatches them with his lubed-up hand, using the opportunity to wipe it off before he puts the briefs to use.

“Open up,” Stu obeys hungrily, literally squirming, rubbing against him as Billy stuffs his underwear into his mouth. “Since you love them so much.” He grins around the fabric, pupil nearly blacking out the blue in his eye.

Billy is almost in position already, his cock pressed up against the over-reactive monster that Stu has between his legs. Maybe it's not a very flattering comparison, and maybe he's spent his fair share of time feeling violently jealous, but that thing belongs to him now.

It doesn't go anywhere he doesn't tell it to go, and right now it's going to stay bouncing useless on Stu's stomach because Billy's going to use him like the hole he is.

He looks down as he guides himself into place, as he starts to press in and fuck, why does the sight of it still make him weak? He’s acting like a stupid virgin again- the tip of your dick is already in his ass, stop thinking and take him apart.

Something like a growl rips out of him and Stu immediately pushes back to take him deeper in response. Billy’s not even sure which voice belongs to him as he bottoms out. There’s a second of stillness where he’s gripping at Stu’s hips just to hold himself down and Stu’s breathing hard, gripping at the duvet, eyes rolling back. Dying saint, Billy thinks. And then he starts to move. 

He’s not taking his time, he doesn't have that kind of restraint and even gagged the sound punches out of Stu every time their hips slap together. Long legs are hooking around his hips, urging him in harder, faster, always wanting more, begging for more, and god, Billy wants more too.

His hand is back at Stu's side, fingers seeking out his perfect New Hole entirely on its own. Eat your heart out Max Renn, no one’s ever made video flesh like this. Anyone can point a camera at some actors, but they don’t even need film-

“We’re gonna make the best fuckin’ movie,” He barely knows what he's saying, leaning in to rest his damp brow against Stu's as he ruts into him. “And then we’re gonna make another one-” 

Angled like this that massive dick rubs against his stomach with every push, but it jumps when he presses a nail into the shredded skin around the wound. Stu’s whole body clenches from it, shivering and breaking out in goosebumps under his fingers. One more hard push and his scarred up mouth drops open, Billy’s spitty underwear falling out.  

“Ahh, gah, yuh,” It’s nothing more than a whimper at this point. Not much need for a gag when Stu’s voice is only half working, so he doesn't bother to stop and grab it.

Not that he'd be able to stop right now, Sheriff Burke himself could have walked into the room with an arrest warrant and he probably wouldn't even notice.

“Get our Bucks wet again,” Billy breathes it out, slamming into Stu just like he did at the lake last night, just like he did in the kitchen last year, and Stu pulls him in closer, lips brushing against his neck

“Mmff, w-wet, yeah-” He repeats, and from the way he’s squeezing down Billy can tell he’s already close.

“Gonna keep em’ wet,” His thighs are burning but he forces himself to move faster because nothing else matters.

The sound coming out of Stu is completely vulgar but it's quiet enough that it lives only in the fractional space between them. It's this tiny, fragile thing that's just about as vulnerable as a split-open stomach.

It hits him right in the throat and wow, he was stupid to think he could avoid cracking himself open if he wasn’t the one taking it. He’s been cracked open since yesterday and at this point he's not sure he's going to find all the peices again but he feels too good for that to matter.

“Kill the whole goddamn world with you-” His voice lives between them the same way Stu's does, and thank god because he's saying things that mean far too much.

I want a franchise and I hate you and a hundred other combinations of words that mean the same thing but it’s never been this obvious before. Fuck, I lo-

Billy’s finger slips forward and finds itself at home under Stu’s skin.

Stu howls, jumping back up to full volume. His head falls back and his legs lock around Billy's waist, pulling him in so he couldn't pull out if he tried. He feels it start from the inside, Stu's body clamping down hard, rhythmic, his whole body tenses and flexes, and two seconds later he’s cumming all over both of them.

That's pretty much it for Billy. He's already hilted between Stu legs and knuckle deep inside his New Hole when he pours himself into the man that shares his mask.

It's not the kind of orgasm that drops off a cliff, it's the kind where his body keeps moving like the last reflexes of a dying man. Stu doesn't let go of him, he won't stop squeezing down through the aftershocks and Billy's so sensitive that it's starting to hurt.

He doesn't pull out though. It doesn't feel like he even can so they stay locked, bodies rocking together, hands squeezing, pulling closer until heart rates finally slow and limbs go heavy to nothing but the sound of breathing.

“G- hah, goddamn baby, you're so good at doin' me,” Stu slurs, sloppy words landing in Billy's hair somewhere behind his ear.

It's stupid but the praise affects him more than he'd like to admit, just more evidence of his raging faggotry. To make matters worse he must have collapsed at some point because he’s full out laying on Stu now, almost back to soft inside him which is just mortifying.

“You’d probably cum if I kicked you a couple times,” He forces a snicker as he pulls out, and if he’s still a little red then it’s because railing someone is a workout. He's so fine and normal. “It's not like it’s hard to do.”

Stu’s got his eyes closed now, laying back and looking totally relaxed like the way they just merged hasn't left him reeling.

“Only for you, man.” He's said some variation of that so many times already, like all those bitches he banged before weren't doing it right.

It's not exactly true though, is it? He knows that Stu doesn’t struggle to get off with other people in the normal ways, and it's not hard to believe that he likes girls the way that Billy doesn't. He definitely didn’t have trouble getting it up for Tatum or Casey. Or Tammy fucking Beckett.

Could he get it up for another guy? Probably. But Billy tried and he couldn't. Fuck.

He might be the only person who can make Stu cum just by kicking him, but he’s pretty sure Stu’s the only one who can make him cum at all. Not like he really thought Sid would do it, but it seemed Mickey should have.

His stomach curdles.

He forces himself to stand, legs weaker than he wants them to be as he walks himself to the bathroom. Are you running away? Fuck. Fuck, fuck-

He pulls the door shut a little too hard to be casual, and now he’s breathing too fast because he's stupid. And just generally a peice of shit, like he really is trash. He clenches his fists, desperately wanting to smack his head against the wall, but Stu's right on the other side. He wishes he could disappear. He wishes he was never born.

Get your shit together and be normal. Don’t let the bomb go off.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek, shakes his hands out and digs his nails into the bruises still left on his thigh.

You don't have to ruin this.

His hands tremor a little as he turns on the tap to clean up, but he shakes them out and forces himself to move on. When he's done he splashes cold water on his face before he dries off and by and everything is fine. He's totally normal and in control.

There's no reason to be stressed about anything because Stu will never find out. Not about that freak in LA or about the fact that Billy is sexually broken.

Okay.

When he steps back into the bedroom Stu’s standing next to his dresser, climbing into fresh sweats. He looks up at the sound of the door and his expression has Billy biting his cheek again. Uneven eyebrows pulled up in the middle, jaw tight. Stu is scared.

He thinks you're about to run away again, you piece of shit.

"What?" It comes out harsher than he meant and Stu takes a visible breath.

"You uh- need somethin' comfy to wear?" There's hope in his voice but Billy can tell that it's strained.

He's holding out a pair of pyjama pants. Red flannel. Billy blinks, flicks his fingers and crosses the room to take them. Stu doesn't say anything but his posture changes completely. He doesn't step back as Billy bends to pull the pants on, he just stands there and watches with his great big goofy smile.

It's weirdly easy to move on. Stu sort of does it for him just by being a relentless distraction.

They end up back in bed with the rest of the snacks they bought the night before, but he makes Stu sit still to get patched up first. There's something satisfying about it, the circularity of tending to the wounds he's caused. He takes his time with it, and when he's done Stu has the audacity to grab his face and kiss him. He doesn't pull away.

They end up watching Dawn of the Dead. They follow it up with Evil Dead II, then Hellraiser II, and neither of them takes any actual notes but they’re definitely brainstorming.

Mrs Macher drags them down for dinner around 6pm and Leslie joins them. Billy hasn't seen her since the hospital and the way she looks at him is something he's not sure how to interpret. It's not hostile it's just sharp, and he doesn't know what to do about that so he starts making excuses to leave as soon as they're done eating.

I'm not in town for long, I should spend some time visiting with my dear old dad, blah, blah, blah. Stu obviously knows that's a lie, he told him earlier that he'd sleep over but he's still tight-lipped when he walks him to the door. It's a show they have to put on though, he doesn't want Mrs Macher thinking anything weird about him sleeping over.

He gets in the Beemer but he only drives up the road a little so he can tuck it in behind the trees. His cellular beeps in his pocket as he parks- a message from Stu saying he left the back door open, nothing more than that. For a second he wonders what his face looked like when he typed it out, but he decides he doesn't want to know.

When he makes it back to the house he can see Mrs Macher through the kitchen window, cleaning or some shit. Leslie's watching TV in the living room so it's not all that hard to sneak back in.

Stu looks so excited when he gets back. More excited than he would be if he was sure Billy wasn't running, but he’s not going to focus on that. He’s got other things to focus on, like the fact that Jonesy thinks she owns his pillow and she’s prepared to defend it with violence.

Stu’s no help, the bastard obviously has no control over his beast so he’s just sitting back and laughing when she drags her claws down Billy’s forearm. He might more annoyed about that if he didn't sort of respect it. Cats aren't meant to be trained.

He tells her she’s rabid and she licks her lips at him like she’s making a threat, but then she rubs her head against his leg. He's got no idea what that might mean, but he also doesn’t feel like letting her draw any more blood so he forfeits the pillow and takes Stu’s instead. 

Stu falls asleep first, about two minutes into an episode of Tales from the Darkside. Jonesy’s still curled up on his pillow so he's pretty much forced to lay pressed against Stu. He smells like soap and sweat from earlier, and Billy’s not like, huffing it or anything. He's just breathing and being a normal guy.

Maybe he’s not paying all that much attention to the show anymore. It's possible that he's staring at Stu, at the light from the TV playing over his face in blues and reds. He might be reaching out to run his fingers through short, messy hair because he can do that now. Because you've wanted to do that forever.

When he decided to come back he figured it would mostly be like it was before. Like he'd tell Stu how he feels but otherwise everything would be the same. It can't be though. Billy isn’t the same and it's a lot harder to lock himself down now that he kind of knows what he wants. 

He wants Stu to want him, he wants first dibs on his time and he definitely doesn't want him to get off anyone else. He wants to share a fucking franchise with him like that isn’t the gayest thing in the world.

Franchise.

He’s not stupid. He knows that’s not the word people use for shit like this. The problem is that word makes him feel like his internal organs are falling out all over the ground. The air is getting thinner again, he’s breathing faster and he really doesn’t need to freak out right now. He really extra doesn’t need Stu to wake up and see him freaking out.

There’s a second where he wants to run away like the worm he is. Crawl back to his car and drive to LA in the dark so he can have a breakdown on his own. Stop it. Don’t be a coward.

He takes a deep breath and holds it until he can hear his pulse, drumming inside his skull. He holds it until it burns in his chest and his lungs start to panic, then he exhales. His head spins as his blood sucks up the oxygen, and for a second his mind is quiet.

When he comes back to himself he realizes that Jonesy is purring. She must have moved closer at some point because she’s curled up at his back now. Little bitch. He doesn’t mind the sound of it though. There's something about the vibration of her body against his spine that brings him down enough to hear the TV again, and in the end it's not that hard to fall asleep.

It’s pretty easy to wake up too. 

For once Stu's up before him, still in bed and weirdly focused on an issue of Fangoria. Billy suspects that he's hiding something, like he was watching him sleep or some stalker shit like that. He likes that idea more than he should.

Stu's all over him the moment he realizes he's awake, and Billy is sleepy enough to allow the suffocation for a moment. When he's had enough he tells him to go get him some coffee, and the good boy comes back with a plate of toast too.

He was planning on leaving earlier but somehow Stu convinces him to make out for like 10 minutes while he’s trying to get dressed. Inevitably that turns into frenzied hand jobs, so it’s already afternoon by the time he’s actually driving back. He feels good though. Annoyingly good.

His mom tries to make a scene when he turns up at the apartment that night but it doesn’t last long. It’s like she can tell something’s changed too and she doesn’t want to jinx it.

She’s got all these questions about Stu and she keeps doing this one face at him. It's annoying but it does let him completely off the hook, he doesn't even lose car privileges. She just scolds him a little about driving without his full license, and then she drops it.

Things move fast after that. 

There’s only a few more weeks of school and they’re set to leave once he graduates, so after that he can move on from his dumb-ass mistakes. He skips LA prom, he graduates, he helps his mom pack up the apartment and they move back to Woodsboro like nothing ever happened. Sort of.

It’s weird at home. His mom is bending over backward and his dad is putting in maybe 50% of the effort he did at Christmas, which is completely predictable. He’s got his wife back and that’s obviously all he cared about in the first place, he was never going to change for real.

It’s hard to stay pissed at her when she's pathetic like that. She was right in the end, letting Billy back in her life opened the door up for Hank and she couldn’t close it. She’s weak, and these days he's not so angry with her. He just pities her. He couldn’t hate Hank any more than he does now, but it’s all just fuel for the fire. He only has to hang on until the end of September. In the meantime he has more than enough to distract himself with.

There are sequels to watch and notes to write, and he really doesn’t have to be home all that much when he can just bike to Stu’s like old times.

He hasn’t been counting but by August he doesn’t think he’s spent more than five nights in his own bed. You told him you wouldn't live with him, so what the hell are you doing? He's not going to think about that too much though, and besides he has good reasons.

He just really hates Hanks house, and they have work to do. Other things to do too- at Stu’s when there’s no one home, in the woods, at the lake, at the Macher beach house, in the back of Stu’s truck...

He’s got Stu in a constant state of black, blue, and bandaged, and that's always been an inspiring look.

For his part Stu seems like he’s on cloud 9, and it’s pretty contagious even though Tammy slut-bag Beckett keeps showing up. Stu even invites her over every once and a while, like she’s Randy or something.

She's also just weird sometimes. Like this one time they're watching Silence and she says she'd give her left tit for a night with Jodie Foster, which is just not the kind of stuff girls say when they're watching horror movies. Billy's the only one telling Stu to shut up when he starts moaning about boobs on-screen these days.

At first he thinks she's just trying to be cool or something, like she's one of those girls that makes out with other chicks to get a dudes attention. But if she was like that wouldn't she be trying to get Stu's attention in other ways?

She let him ditch her at prom and she didn't even complain, she's not constantly pressing her tits against him like Tatum used to, and she pretty much treats Stu the same way Leslie does only meaner. It doesn’t look like flirting, so like why does she even hang around?

Whatever. Stu drops plans with her if Billy so much as hints that he might want to hang out alone, so he can tolerate her presence for now. She's not a problem. Yet.

Unfortunately she might actually be helpful, because It turns out she’s also going to W.C.U. At first he's livid but then he realizes that she'll be an incredibly convenient way to find new cast members, especially the females he doesn't want Stu fishing for.

So Tammy's got a role in their movie, and it's not a hard one to figure out; she's the extroverted slut. The new Tatum.

It's really coming together now, and it's a good thing because the summer is going by way too quickly.

By July Sunny Daye’s sending a photographer out to take portraits of them for the book, which is set to launch in October. They couldn't have hoped for better timing, Hank’s death is going to be make for an unforgettable marketing stunt.

By August they're prepping for the move out to West Craven, doing course registration, all that shit. Stu seems excited. Billy is not.

Or he's technically looking forward to it, he's desperate to get out of Woodsboro, desperate to have his own place where he can make Stu scream whenever he wants. For the first time in his life he even thinks school might actually be worthwhile. But he doesn't feel excited, mostly when he thinks about it his hands start flicking. It's just… it's a lot of new stuff. He's a grown man though, so he's not going to bitch out about it.

He's not into the roommate situation though.

Stu’s been looking for one all summer and Billy doesn’t know why the fuck he would do that. Just because he said he wasn’t ready to move in together? Like it some kind of petty revenge? He could have just lived on his own, it's not like he needs someone to split the rent with.

Stu keeps trying to rub it in his face and tell him about this new dude he's been talking to. He's not interested and he lets that be known enough times that Stu gives up, and it turns into a topic they actively avoid.

Weirdly he wishes it could have been Tammy, at least she’s a known quantity but she wants to live in a dorm on campus. So everyone's insane and wants to live with a stranger apparently. He's already decided that he's putting the roommate on the cast list, he doesn’t need to know anything else. He’s not going to whine about it though, and he's not going to talk to Stu about it.

Billy's pulled enough pathetic bullshit in the past year to last a lifetime, so now it's time to be normal.

Well. As normal as it gets for a homosexual serial killer.