Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His eyes were a crystalline blue.

“And now! Ladies and gentleman, your nineteen ninety-five homecoming king…”

His name was Stuart.

“Billy Loomis!”

He once wore a Psycho t-shirt to school. Principal Himbry made him change it.

“Billy!”

“Congratulations!”

“I voted for you!”

So Billy wore a Psycho shirt and he noticed.

“Loomis! Congratulations you bastard!”

“Congrats Mr. President!”

“You deserve it!”

Billy gave a fuck about nothing but him.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

“Billy!”

Billy Loomis was startled at his locker by an asshat named Charlie. They'd been teammates in rugby two years ago. Billy was the only freshman to ever make varsity.

He was kicked mid-season last year due to his poor attendance, but his ex-team mates still talked to him like he never left.

“The fuck do you want, Patterson,” Billy learned to smile at least a little when insulting someone. It apparently meant you didn't mean it. “I thought I finally got away from your fugly ass.”

Charlie Patterson laughed and shoved Billy's shoulder. “Shut up, asshole. Just wanted to ask if you're coming to the homecoming dance next week?”

Billy stuffed his next class' textbook in his bag and slammed his locker shut, spinning the dial before giving Chuck a confused look.

“Fuck no. That shit's a waste of a Friday night.”

“You're breakin’ my heart, here,” Charlie steps in time with Billy as the latter begins walking to class. “No homecoming dance, means no infamous Loomis after-party. Now that's what I call a wasted friday.”

“Shut up.”

“Come on man!” Charlie pleaded. “You haven't thrown a rager since you won the student election! And what a night that was. I heard the whole cheerleading squad lost their v-cards that night.”

“Too bad you were passed out in the front yard, huh? Virgin fuck.”

Charlie was the opposite of offended. “Exactly! You gotta give me my chance, dude!”

“And why aren't you whining to that Stu guy?” Billy's heart rattled in his chest. Even when he was the one to bring him up, he couldn't help it. “He's gotta bigger house, with more expensive booze. Aren't his parents rich? Go bother him.”

“Don't know him,” Chuck waved the thought away easily. “Why ask a total stranger when I could appeal to my best bud's sense of sympathy?”

If that was Charlie's goal, he'd have better luck asking the devil himself. It was almost laughable, really.

“Sorry,” Billy shrugged, again, slightly smiling as he continued. “I gave my last fuck to the poor, you'll have to try with them.”

“Aw come on, don't be such a buzz kill, man.”

“Stu's place has a jacuzzi.” Billy tried again. The hammering of his heart picked up. Stu’s face flashed in his mind. That smile, those dimples… all that blood.

“Even if Stuart assclown Macher was throwing a party,” Charlie sighed, “we don't know him. What makes you think we'd be invited?”

Billy took a second too long to answer. He blinked. “Uh, I would be invited.” He tried to recover. “I'm Billy fucking Loomis. So...”

“Right.” Charlie rolled his eyes. “I forgot, I'm in the presence of royalty here.”

“Yep.”

“Speaking of, you're almost guaranteed to win Homecoming king this year. So you've really got no choice but to go.”

Billy groaned as he recalled his name being on the list of nominees in the morning announcements. His class had cheered for him when they heard. Billy wanted to kill himself.

“Don't remind me.”

Charlie pleaded fruitlessly with Billy once more before he had to book it to class or risk being late. Upon the departure of his only distraction there was nothing to keep the ringing in Billy's head quiet.

Macher.

Clear as a bell it pealed.

Stu's last name was Macher.

Billy smiled to himself. It was perfect like the rest of him.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

Stu had spoken to him once.

Last year when Billy was still the rugby star. Before he got kicked out.

He was out on the empty bleachers of the practice field. It was much smaller than the one used for games, tucked away behind the tennis courts. No one ever bothered him here. He'd been eating lunch, he couldn't remember what it was for the life of him. When Stu had come from out of nowhere, right around the corner of the athletics shed.

Stu Macher, though Billy didn't know his last name at that time.

He'd been wearing these fugly pleated khakis (Looked like he was going to fucking Sunday school or something. Stupid dork.) with a white tank tucked in, and an olive green, button-up, short sleeve. None of the buttons were being utilized; all the better for Billy's brain to short circuit. His view was perfect. The student body president of 1994 unabashedly looked at the tall boy's slim waist and flat stomach with eager eyes.

Billy wanted to run his hands under that tank top.

Stu seemed just as surprised to see Billy there, but other than a quick nod (that Billy immediately reciprocated), they didn't acknowledge each other.

Then Billy was choking on his drink, as the exact second he decided to take a sip, Stu decided to lift the front of his tank top up from the confines of his pants and pull it over his mouth and nose. He then produced a spray can from his pocket.

Billy could hear the clacking as Stu shook the can, but he was distracted by his own staring, open-mouthed, at Stu's toned stomach.

It was gorgeous, he was perfect.

Billy wanted a taste of it. He wanted to lick, kiss, bite, every inch. He bet being intimate with Stu meant falling into heaven. A body like that needed to be worshiped. Ruined.

Billy didn't know how long Stu stayed spraying, or he stayed staring, imagining, dying inside, but when the white of Stu's shirt dropped down again, obstructing Billy's view, it was to the wonderful sound of Stu's laughter as he backed up and admired his work. Billy quickly went back to eating like he hadn't just been ogling Stu with his tongue out like a dog. He looked anywhere else so as not to be caught.

And suddenly there was trouble.

Panic rushed through Billy's body as he saw one of the assistant tennis coaches approaching the shed from the other side. The man was still a ways out and walking leisurely, but still.

Billy whistled sharply, getting Stu's attention.

Billy's whole world were those blue eyes. Even better, they were alit with delight, and looking right at him.

“Coach is coming, get lost.” Billy warned, his voice raised only just loud enough for Stu to hear.

Billy watched as his own panic transferred to Stu, he gave one last nod, tossed the can and booked it in the other direction. His haunting giggles followed him out, and lingered in Billy's head even in the present day.

It was later that same week Billy saw him again in detention. Billy himself had been busted for ditching the pep-rally. Which was apparently not an option for the student body president. Fuck politics. So he wanted a smoke after his stupid ‘go, Timberwolves!’ speech. Big deal.

Stu materialized at the door, smirk on face, books in hand, scoffing when the detention teacher made him remove his headphones and turn in his walkman.

“But what about my tunes? How am I supposed to survive this hell without Whitney Houston telling me she'll always love me?!” Someone to Billy left laughed, Billy himself was hiding his smile behind his fist, as Stu mimicked holding a microphone and began actually singing. More students couldn't hold back at the display. He was such an idiot.

“Sit down and shut up!” The teacher barked. “Or that's another detention for you.”

The serious and genuine anger from the teacher only made the situation funnier. There wasn't a student in the room not snickering.

Mission now accomplished, Stu bowed to the class and sauntered to an open seat. Blue eyes widened when they found Billy's brown.

“Well, well, well, Mr. Presidente,” Stu smiled.

Billy's heart was pounding. Stu was talking to him. Stu knew who he was! It wasn't really that much of a stretch, Billy was pretty well known in general, but Stu was always outside of the curriculum.

Billy was too stupid to formulate any response good enough. “At your service,” and he was. He so was.

“See, that's why I voted for ya,” Stu sucked in a breath and bit his lip, dramatically wiping his eye of a fake tear, “a man of the people, right here.”

Billy knew Stu was being funny. It was funny. Stupid, dumb, idiotic, but hilarious. But holy shit he couldn't multitask when it came to Stu. He'd only registered one thing, heart twisting in his chest. “You voted for me?”

Stu's smile somewhat waned as he gave Billy a look of confusion. Why the fuck did he say that? Why the fuck did he say that? Billy mentally put a bullet through his brain. Fuck. Fuck! Say something else!

“Yeah. Uh, anyway,” Stu moved on, and Billy had to bite the inside of his cheek to punish himself somehow. He bit hard. But then Stu produced a Hershey's chocolate bar from his pocket. It was a king sized, too. He set it down on Billy's desk and winked.

Billy fucking melted. Suddenly glad he was already biting his cheek, the way he almost fucking swooned. He actually slid down in his seat about an inch before he caught himself.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Stu smiled, then very briefly glanced down. “Cool shirt.”

He moved to take one of the empty seats left. Somewhere behind Billy. He didn't have to look down to know he was wearing an Exorcist shirt.

It took Billy the rest of detention to understand what Stu was even thanking him for. He also might've blacked out just a little. Stu had talked to him. Winked at him. Stu liked his shirt.

The two never spoke again.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

“Alright,” Billy sighed as he skimmed over the agenda sheet in front of him, triple checking every bullet point. “I think that just about concludes today's meeting. Cierra, don't let me forget to go over the minutes with you after.”

A sophomore seated in the back briefly looked up from her spiral and nodded at Billy before nudging her glasses back in place and getting right back to it. The fifteen bright faces of the student council looked back at Billy. He had to admit when running for president was first pitched to him, he'd thought it was a good idea at the time. Anything to make him look the part of the all-american, apple pie, normal white boy. And not the creepy, serially disturbing, hunting obsessed, freak white boy. But holy fucking stab in the ear with an ice pick, all these dumb ass presidential obligations were not fucking worth it.

They were hosted in the library and met every Friday before school, and every Friday morning Billy screamed into his pillow, remembering the monkey dance he had to perform day by day till he finally killed himself.

“Last thing up: Lunch DJ Friday was a huge success and Principal Himbry has agreed to let us continue hosting one on the first Friday of every month.” Billy made sure to smile as his blood spiked. There was a small chorus of celebrations.

Then a boy seated on the left side of their absurdly large conference table, Travis Cohen, raised his hand.

Billy took a moment to imagine lighting striking the little shit down.

“Travis?”

“What about the idea of monetizing it? Where students can pay a dollar to pick a song to play next, or skip whatever's currently playing?” Travis would look so much better with his skull smashed in. Blood pouring over the avenues of his face. Brains splattered. “I think it would be a really great way to raise money for our class fund.”

Billy pretended to think it over seriously. Dance monkey, dance. “That's a good point. I'll be sure to bring that up with Principal Himbry sometime this week.” He gave Travis an encouraging nod as he imagined plunging a knife into his thigh and a genuine smile passed between the two of them. “Oh,” he was so normal. So charismatic. “And to whoever nominated me for Homecoming King, because I know it was one of you fuckers, remember; I know where you live.”

Billy tapped on his binder which held all their emergency information, as each of them laughed. Pricks.

That marked the end of the official meeting, and twenty minutes later he was breathing an annoyed sigh of relief and saying goodbye to Cierra.

He took a second as he packed his things to wonder where he was this morning. What he was doing, who he was with.

Despite being in the same grade together for the last ten years, Billy hasn't shared a lot of classes with Stu. The wonderful, terrible thing is when they did share a class, because of roll call, they usually sat next to or very near each other. Billy always had suspicions that Stu had an "L" last name like him. Then they might have something in common, but he wouldn't change 'Macher' for the world.

“Oh, Billy!”

His whole body froze, feet mid-step, hand holding his exit door open.

Irritation rippled through his veins.

He took a much-needed breath and made his body to totally relax. It was easier to pull a believable smile when starting at zero, as opposed to being deep in the negative, trying to pull from ire.

When he turned to face the librarian who called him, Mrs. Margaret, he was apple pie Billy Loomis. Model student, lady killer. “What can I do for you, ma'am?”

She returned his sweet smile and patted a stack of papers that was atop her check out counter. “Would you mind dropping these off with Mrs. Zimmerman?”

“Oh,” he reluctantly released the door and walked back up to the counter. “She teaches freshman-sophomore Remedial English, right?”

He tried not to grasp the stack too harshly. People took offense to absolutely everything. Especially the small stuff.

Mrs. Margaret seemed surprised by Billy's clarifying question. “Oh that's right, there's a Zimmerman teacher, too. Sorry dear, I was referring to the office treasurer. I always forget there's two of them now.”

The two shared a small laugh that extinguished a piece of Billy's soul to perform, and he was off to the office.

“That’s an interesting bag, young man,” she stopped him. Again.

Billy’s fingers twitched. He didn’t try to smile. No use forcing what wasn’t gonna happen, he went for a neutral/confused look. It worked because he really was confused—at least, surprised. Teachers usually didn’t point out the uniqueness of his backpack. Students did.

“Huh?” Billy had one hand holding the stack, and one on his shoulder strap.

“Your backpack,” she smiled, vaguely pointing, “very interesting, is that what you kids are going for these days? Lots of patches? Very, um, rad.” She laughed at herself.

Billy shrugged. “Guess so.”

“Did you do all those yourself? I’ve never seen such unique patches.”

“Just the ironing part.” Except for the ones attached with a couple dozen safety pins.

“Oh, well, how wonderful, still. Very creative.”

“Thank you ma’am, you have a great day.” And he was off to the office with no other interruptions.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

Upon entering the office, he was greeted very warmly by office secretary, Miss Clarke. Most teachers and staff members were familiar with Billy, and liked him well enough. He never got into the concerning kind of trouble, he maintained good grades (at least this year), and even once upon a time he was a sports prodigy.

“Well hello Mr. Loomis, shouldn’t you be making your way to first period?”

The morning late bell rang out as she spoke, and they both smiled ruefully. Ms. Clarke was a beautiful, young, relatively new office official, she was also the only black woman on staff including teachers. Billy liked her. He hated for it to be true because all adults suck, everyone who wasn’t Stu Macher sucked, but he really did.

Billy winced and set down the large stack of papers on her counter top. “I’m on errand for Margaret, have you seen Julia around? These are for her.”

“She’s out,” Ms. Clarke sighed, she hated that Billy referred to the adult members of staff by first name behind their backs. “Her office is open though, you can go right in.”

“Thank you Ms. Clarke.” He practically sang, taking back the papers.

She tsked at him. “If you don’t get out of here.”

He began walking away, “Oh,” but turned back to her at the last second, “how’d we do yesterday?”

“Not good. Montreal lost to Cincinnati, nine to seven, can you believe it?”

Billy shook his head. “What was the damage?”

“Mr. Parr swept, got one hundred and fifty dollars, thirty of which was ours.” She shook her head with him.

Last year Billy had picked up on a little operation going on at good ol' Woodsboro that he didn't have a hand in: the teachers like to bet on ball games. They started with the world series first, before the season even began, they’d bet on who would win it all. Then as it went on, they bet on games, players, teams and made predictions.

Once Billy found that out, he resolved to help Ms. Clarke win more bets. He never put money in (she flat out, repeatedly refused to let him), but together they strategized. They won more than lost, yesterday must've been unlucky. Last week they made surprise upset though. At the beginning of the year, Billy predicted one of the club managers would get fired and replaced, and wouldn’t you know it, the White Sox came through. Ms. Clarke won a hundred bucks. She split it with Billy, fifty-fifty (literally) though he tried to make her take all of it. He could never win an argument with her.

“Fuck the Reds.”

“Language, Mr. Loomis.” She didn’t even look up from her computer screen.

“We’ll get ‘em next time Ms. Clarke, you’ll see.” He thought about it, “We should put a bet on another manager upset. Make it bigger than last time. It’s gonna happen again.”

“And what makes you so sure?” This time she did look up.

Billy just shrugged and turned the corner.

The office was extremely compact. More of a series of one-off hallways whose express purpose was to lead to a door. The overhead ceiling lights were a dulled orange, the walls were hideously wood trimmed and painted vomit-green. The floor was a nice prison gray with speckles of white. It was so thin that Billy was sure someone jumping off a bridge to off themselves would much rather land on this than in water because of the two, only the carpet was a guaranteed kill. And the air here was different, too. Swirling with old people perfumes, cologne, and of course, second-hand smoke.

On his way around he passed said hi to Mr. Kelly, his old calculus teacher. Ignored Mr. Parr’s greeting, fucker, and noticed Vice Principal Vernon’s door was slightly ajar. Someone was getting busted for sure. The only time Vernon’s door wasn’t slammed shut was when he wanted everyone around to hear him yelling hellfire at some punk.

Principal Himbry was altogether too soft for that kind of thing. So unless it was a serious and suspendable offense, Vice Principal Dickweed handled the trouble makers. And one thing about Mr. Vernon—he hated his job.

Billy rolled his eyes and muttered a quiet, “Jag-off,” as he passed the fucker's door.

It must not have been quiet enough, because someone inside who was very clearly not a sadistic 40-something loser who hated kids, snickered.

“Oh, so you think this is funny do ya…”

Billy clicked his tongue. Oops. Moving on... The next turn revealed Mrs. Zimmerman’s Treasury office.

Her door was easiest to find as it had a wreath hanging on it every day of the fucking year. She switched it out thematically depending on the time of year it was. Right now it was decorated in Woodsboro High colors, with various generic 'go team!' words of encouragement. It was due for the halloween switch-up any day now. Billy pushed past the door, unsurprised to find it empty, just as Mrs. Clarke had told him. Mrs. Zimmerman's personal office always had a distinct old-lady perfume smell that Billy hated. He literally had to hold his breath for the single minute he was in there, it was that overwhelming. Papers deposited—thanks Margaret, lazy bitch—job done. End of.

Upon walking back through the depressing maze that was this hell-hole's admin office, Billy found two kids sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chairs that were directly outside Mr. Vernon’s office. Two kids who were absolutely not there before. That was fast. Either he took longer to find the right cabinet drawer than he thought, or they had just about finished their business when he was walking through the first time.

The first kid there was Tommy Stilinski, one of a triplet set: the Stilinski brothers. Of the three, Billy knew only Miles personally. But he’d seen Tom and Ace around the halls. The triplets were in a grade below him.

The second kid, sitting a few chairs down, was Stu Macher himself, because of course he was.

Tommy had a split lip and was holding an ice pack to his jaw. Stu was stretched out with a hand behind his head, sucking on a lollipop. The knuckles of his fist were a little banged up, but not too bad.

Lighting went right through Billy at the sight of Stu, it settled deep in his guts.

He clenched his teeth.

“Billy?” Tom sat up upon recognizing him. The ice shifted in his pack as he lowered it, jaw bruise forgotten. “No way! I was just talking about you, I was gonna find you later.”

Billy stopped. “How can I help you, Stilinski? Though, if you want me to bail you out with Richard in there, that’s gonna cost you.”

Tom (and all of the Stilinski boys, really) was a skinny, lanky, twerp with dark chocolate hair, thick eyebrows, and an easy smile. The fact that they were triplets was interesting enough, but they were also each athletically inclined—with two in soccer and one on the baseball team—and decent looking for scrawny fifteen year old little shits. They were shoo-ins for being popular, already moving quickly up the ranks.

“No, no, no, nothing like that." Tommy assured. He threw his hands around when he talked. Billy liked it better on Stu. "Listen, I want in.”

At these words, Billy’s blood spiked. Brown eyes widened slightly before he recovered his winning smile. He knew this Tommy boy was Miles' brother, but there was no way he knew about what it sounded like he was alluding to. The little shit couldn't possibly mean—

“Miles told me about—”

“I don’t know," Billy loudly and forcefully interrupted. His jaw clenched and his smile stretched into plastic as he took one deliberate step forward, "to who or what you are referring.” He glared down at Tommy. Shut the fuck up, fucking twerp!

They were not only in public, but in the middle of the fucking office, right outside Vernon’s door! Is this kid a dumbass?

The kid laughed. “Right, yeah okay. I’ll talk to you at lunch then?”

Billy shrugged like he was indifferent, relaxing back from that one step he took. His blood was boiling under his blase attitude. No way some little shit-for-brains with a mouth was gonna ruin everything. “You couldn’t find me.”

Tom’s face went through a series of confused emotions, before finally settling on realization. Very few people knew or even noticed that Billy didn’t eat lunch in the cafeteria.

“No shit,” Tom leaned back, looking over Billy like he was seeing something for the first time. “I’ll ask my brother, then.”

Billy scoffed. “He doesn’t know.”

Tommy seemed genuinely confused. Billy wanted to take a nail-bat to his temple. Right up there with Travis fucking Cohen. “So how do I find you?”

“You don’t.”

The kid frowned, clearly disappointed. “Come on, man.”

“Sorry,” Billy shrugged like he was anything but, and moved by them both. He needed to get out of here before the kid said anything else. His heart pounded as he passed directly in front of Stu. He could practically reach out and touch him.

“I know where to find him.”

Billy and Tommy looked in shock at Stu.

Billy felt a knife sink into his heart. Stu was staring right at him. Those crystal blues stabbed his chest. It took Billy a second to even be upset by the words he said. Wait what?

Stu suddenly winked at Billy, and the knife twisted.

Billy wanted to sink his own knife into Stu. Watch him bleed, see him cry. He’d bet anything that Stu looked beautiful when he cried. Billy chewed the inside of his lip. They both knew Stu was right, too. He did know where Billy ate lunch.

“I’ll tell you,” Stu dragged his eyes over to Tommy, he pulled out his lollipop with a smile. “For five bucks.”

“The fuck?” Tommy sat up. “Sure!”

Stu laughed like a maniac as Tommy dug into his pants pocket. He threw his whole body back when he laughed, the cheap plastic chair he sat in creaked slightly as he moved. His laugh. His fucking laugh. It sounded wild and ugly and perfect. Billy was mesmerized. “That’s a scream, you’d buy Billy fucking Loomis’ right to privacy for a fiver.” Stu sucked a breath.

“You’re the one selling it.” Billy pointed out. 

“Hold on, sweetheart, the men are talking.” Stu didn’t even look at Billy, just held up his finger for a second as he accepted Tommy’s five.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

And he wouldn’t be able to tell you why, or what on earth compelled him to do this, but his hand was moving before he could stop to think. He snatched Stu’s lollipop right out of his fingers. This got Stu’s head to turn. The blonde’s mouth was still half open like it could be stretched to a smile at a moment's notice. Billy then, when he had Stu’s full attention, licked all around the candy in swirls for a moment before closing his lips around it.

“Tell him whatever you want, asshole.” Billy snapped. “Thanks for the candy.” He was partway speaking on the lollipop, but mostly acknowledging the Hershey’s bar from back in detention. He never got to convey his gratitude.

Stu's mouth fell open further as a huge smile took over his face. He slowly handed Billy the bill, and they both ignored Tom's protests about it. “I was never gonna tell him shit, Mr. President. That’s God’s honest truth.”

“There is no God.”

“Then take my word for it.”

Billy accepted the five, purposefully waiting beat before snatching it from Stu's fingers. He hoped it came across as reluctant, at least rude. And not like the desperation to get his fingers close enough to Stu’s was about to burst out of him. If only he could touch him. Even fleetingly. Even once.

“I don’t know you, man.”

Stu stole his lollipop back and held it to his lips. “Wanna fix that?” He popped it back in his mouth.

Billy swallowed. No one said anything for a pause while Billy tried to get the ringing out of his ears. His brain attempted function again.

“Mr. Loomis,” Vernon suddenly came back from around the corner, he looked slightly surprised to see Billy there, but more irritated about it than not. In his hands he held two pink slips. Detention. “Shouldn’t you be in class? There is absolutely no reason for you to be talking with your little friends here.”

“I was running an errand for Mrs. Margaret,” Billy explained. He didn’t even try to hide his glare. Billy was well-liked by most adults, but this asshole hated kids. He was a Grade-A douche.

“I think I’ve sort of missed the part where standing around talking to worthless pricks was on that agenda.” Mr. Vernon scowled.

“You’re absolutely right sir, I’ll be sure to refrain from any interactions with you in the future.”

Stu choked out an unexpected snort.

“Alright wise-ass, you think you’re so funny?” Vernon huffed up. “See if you’ll be laughing when I stick you in detention with punks like them.”

“Billy,” Ms. Clarke suddenly materialized right at the opening of the hall. “I’ve got your late pass, here. Time to get to class now.” She was tense and very pointedly not looking at Mr. Vernon. She smoothed the skirt of her dress over in a nervous habit as the silence stretched on.

Mr. Vernon nodded, “Time to get to class now, son.”

“Don't fucking call me that.” Billy seethed and snatched the paper out of Ms. Clarke's hands. As he walked away, she went with him, with a gentle hand on his back.

He heard Vernon's, “little shit,” hissed under his breath.

And Stu’s, answering remark, “I voted for him.”

Mr. Vernon said something back but Billy and Ms. Clarke were waking too fast. Once they made it back to her desk, they each finally breathed.

“Thanks,” Billy looked around. He could see a lone student passing down the hall through the office's large glass wall. Diamond netted with chicken-wire between the panes, just like every window in this shithole.

“Anytime baby, that man is a tyrant.” She sighed as she reclaimed her seat. “I'll see you later.”

“See ya.” Billy waved.

“And tuck your shirt in!” She called out as Billy pushed through the doors.

When Billy found himself passing the windows of the office he just left, he couldn't stop his curious look if he tried. He had to see him again, it's like he was magnetized to Stu's general state of being.

Stu was still sitting there, laughing at something Tommy said, they each held a pink slip in their hands. He suddenly glanced out the window and did a double take, noticing Billy there, staring back at him. He stopped whatever he was saying to Tom, giving Billy the biggest, goofiest looking smile and an over enthusiastic wave.

Billy's heart sung. He wanted to take that boy. Trap him and keep him forever. He wanted to hear that laugh again. Always.

His feelings were too intense to even attempt control, he felt like they could pour out of him. Billy gave Stu his harshest glare in return and walked away.

Chapter Text

“It’s not like this has ever happened before. He’s cool.”

“That’s great, and if it were you, I’d be doing the same thing.” Billy spat out with a sneer. His signature flannel was off. Tied around his waist. Arms free.

He and student body vice president Zach Hernandez were waiting at the empty courts, alone and unbothered. The heat of the sun beating high in the early afternoon, was undercut by the chill of fall. Wind swept through them in bursts that never completely died. The chill felt good against Billy’s skin. It wasn’t enough to be biting, it would hardly rose the ends of their noses or tips of their ears, but it would get there soon enough in the coming weeks.

Skip fourth. Tennis courts. Emergency meeting.

Billy had gotten the word out after first period. Only, he had somewhat lied. He gave Zach a thirty-minute earlier meet time than he’d told their third and final member, who both boys were waiting for now. While they waited, they talked. Billy knew Zach, as morally loose as he was, was a bit spineless. Soft. He wouldn’t be okay with Billy blindsiding them both. Might even try to talk him out of his plans, or stop him completely.

“Without some fucking structure we’d be up shit’s creek. And thanks to that fuckhead we almost were.” Billy angrily pulled another drag from his cig, and brushed his hair back, it was getting long.

Zach shook his head. “Damn it.” He softly expelled, taking his own puff.

Billy tossed his fag and stomped it out. “You know I’m right.” He pulled a rubber band from his pocket.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zach nodded but he hardly looked Billy in the eyes. “You got any contenders for a new greaseman?”

Billy shook his head. He noted a lone figure finally emerging from the school’s rear exit. Show time. “No, still looking. If someone catches your eye, let me know.” With the band around his wrist, Billy started pulling his hair back. “Though I’m not gonna just forget that you’re the one who vouched for this kid in the first place.”

They now both watched the third member of their little group as he jogged up. Zach sighed, “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah you will.” Billy nodded, dropping his arms. His bangs were now fully out of the way. The kid waved at them calling ‘Hey guys!’ when he was about halfway out. “If you don’t, I’ll cut into you by ten percent for three weeks straight.”

“Fuck me.” Zach frowned as he waved back. “I’ll make it up to you, geez.”

“Hey,” the kid said again, breathing a little harshly as he met them. “So what’s up? What’s with the ditching? Zach, Billy.” He greeted.

Zach said nothing while Billy returned the kids nod. “Miles.”

“Why are we meeting now? What’s the big fucking emergency,” Miles questioned. “I’ve got a test this period, I’m gonna have to stay after to make it up.”

Billy looked out at the cars parked in the next parking lot over. “I’ve got work-study. I leave after this.”

“Oh.”

Billy looked back at the kid. “Hey, Miles.”

Pow!

With no other words Billy clocked Miles right in the nose.

Miles cried out and reeled back. Hands automatically going towards his face.

Zach tossed his fag and moved quickly to get behind Miles as the poor kid backed up.

Billy stepped up, “Come on, come here,” snatched the front of his collar and reared his fist back.

“No, Billy—!”

Billy punched him again across his cheek, and again.

Miles was struggling. Trying to protect his face, push Billy away, get out of his grip, anything to save himself.

“Alright, okay,” Billy shoved Miles while he was still disoriented.

With a gasp of air rushing out from his chest, Miles stumbled into Zach, who immediately grabbed his arms and held them behind his back.

Billy punched him again, his blood was singing. What a goddamn fucking rush. Almost made him glad this stupid motherfucker dared betray him. He stepped up and grabbed his jaw. Forcing Miles to look up into his glaring face.

“No! Wait, wait.” Miles begged. His cheek was cut and his nose was bleeding.

“Listen to me.” Billy breathed hard. “We run a pretty tight ship around here. Even you know that, you stupid fuck. We have rules, don’t we? Name one.”

“Billy, w-what the fuck is this about?” Miles’ distress bled through his eyes. Billy drank in his fear like water.

He pulled out his old switchblade. With a soft click and a flash of metal, Miles' struggle kicked up again, trying like hell to get away, but Zach held him firm.

Billy ran the blade up Miles’ shirt. Fuck, it would be so easy to just thrust! Right into his flesh. Billy’s hands were shaking at the effort to hold back. But no, he had plans for that. Solid plans. Setting up an alibi, staging, diverting. If he lost his cool in this moment, he’d lose everything else. It wasn’t an option.

Billy stopped the knife against Miles' throat. “Name the rule.”

Miles tried twice to push the words through his shaking lips. “D-don’t tell anyone.”

“Good boy.” Billy praised condescendingly, “Another?”

“There are no others.” Miles repeated what Billy had first told him when he was recruited into their little operation last year. “Tell no one. That’s it.”

“That’s it!” Billy snatched the knife away and backed up. “So now you’re gonna explain why your dumbfuck brother, saw me in the office today and started running his mouth right in front of Mr. Vernon’s office! With Principal fucking Himbry right around the corner! And in front of another fucker from my grade! Huh?”

“Oh my god,” Miles looked sick, “oh my god, i-it’s— he-he’s a fucking dumbass Billy! Fuck! He was in my stuff. He saw the pre-answered tests and figured it out. I didn’t tell him shit, and I told him not to say shit either! Fuck. I’m sorry, Billy, honest. I’ll kick his ass myself. It was an accident.”

“Oh, it was an accident.” Billy flipped his knife into his left hand, making sure to keep it away and punched him in the gut. “That makes it better, huh?!”

The three did nothing for a beat while Billy stepped back. He ran the knife over his lips in contemplation. Finally, he made eye contact with Zach and gave a single nod.

Zach released Miles in that instant.

Billy let him relax for a second, wipe his face a little, cough some, before he grabbed a fistful of the kid's hair. Miles cried out again, but other than flailing panicked arms, he didn’t fight back. Billy pulled him in close and held the knife to his throat again. “You’re out. If any of you fucking Stilinski’s even look at me in the halls, I’ll kill you. You blab to fucking Himbry or Vernon about any of this shit, I’ll kill you. You do anything other than fuck right off for good, you’re fucking dead. Got that? Now hold fucking still.” He moved his knife lower, to Miles’ shirt sleeve. It was navy blue with the tag of the company who made it sewn on.

“Yes, yes, I got it.” Miles agreed desperately. The poor boy froze his whole body, other than his head, which he shook rapidly. “I won't talk, I swear.”

There was a quiet ripping as Billy cut the sleeve off. “Like I'm ever gonna trust your word again.” He scoffed. Nonetheless, he pulled away the knife when he was done and shoved Miles forward. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”

Billy tucked the sleeve in his front jean pocket.

The two left at the courts watched Miles stumble a little before running back around the building at full speed.

“Well that went better than expected.” Zach said optimistically. He lit up a new smoke, puffing once before offering it to Billy.

Billy accepted. “Yeah, congrats, we just went from thirty-thirty-thirty to fifty-fifty.”

“Won't get far without a greaser.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Billy shrugged. He nudged Zach’s arm and nodded towards the parking lot. “See ya.”

"See ya."

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

Billy grunted as he turned into the Sunrise Films lane. The thick growth of trees and bushes acted as a natural border around the property. At first it was weird for him seeing the drive-in during the day. Vast and empty. Giant projector sheet like the mainsail of an old pirate ship, just hanging there, blank. The tiny concession hut which he was used to seeing populating long lines of restless movie goers, was empty. The counter cage was dropped. Lights out. The radio boxes had no cars docked to them. Some were left in the gravel unhooked.

Billy frowned, he hated the way people mistreated shit. No fucking regard, the way of the world. It’s the reason their radio speakers now were attached to its pole stand with a chain and padlock.

Billy parked in front of the projecting house and pulled his rubber band free. He ruffled his hair as he climbed out, grabbed his stuff, and locked his car. It was his mom’s old Mercedes. She’d always said it’d be his one day. It was a boxy, maroon, piece of shit that had come with a myriad of quirks Billy slowly learned about as he used it. A fucking hunk of junk. He hated his car.

He stomped up to the door, slinging his school bag over his shoulder, holding his jacket in his other hand. Mrs. Dreyfus never cared when he did school work at the drive-in, as long as he did his job, which was fucking easy. Each movie was usually two reels worth of film so as long as he was paying attention around the halfway mark and switched them at the right moment, it would go off without a hitch.

The only bitch about work was the ‘Absolutely no smoking!’ rule.

There were about a million signs around the projection building itself, designated smoking zones around the bathrooms, and patrons could obviously smoke in their cars if they wanted. But the projection office was a no smoking zone. It had to be. See, Mrs. Dreyfus was old school, still projecting on nitrate film, despite the fact that there were safer substitutes. Nitrate was a highly volatile substance about eight times more flammable than paper. One wrong spark and the whole drive in could go up in flames, consuming everyone with it.

They always say smoking's gonna kill you, but at the drive in, it turned into more of an instantaneous thing.

Billy shivered as he stepped into the building, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Temperature was always at a cool sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit, even as the weather dropped. Nitrate. ‘Must be kept in a cool, dry place, preferably with no natural light’.

Despite the setbacks, Billy enjoyed his job. Like he said it was easy, and his boss was almost never around. She was a sixty-something recluse who only owned the place because she inherited it from her aunt and uncle. And even before he was hired, Billy used to come here all the time. He loved movies. Scary movies the most. Killers, monsters, slashers, the more gore the better.

“And he finally shows up.” Exclaimed the only other employee (besides Mrs. Dreyfus herself) who knew how to work the projector. He was setting up the first movie reels. “Was about to put out a missing person’s, you’re never late.”

“Fuck off, Meeks, I had something to take care of.” Billy bit back. He set down his bag in the corner and checked the schedule for tonight. Friday night, they were playing through till two am. It was gonna be a long one. “And I’m not late, I’m just not obscenely early like you. Get a nice jerk session before I showed up? Fucking perv.” If Billy knew one person who was as obsessed with movies as he was, it would be Randy Meeks.

“I’ll have you know, me and Citizen Kane had a wonderful time together.” He snickered.

Billy snorted with him, “I’m never watching that shit again now, thanks asshole.”

“Hey don’t forget to write more suggestions on the clipboard.” Randy pointed at the wall, where hanging on the door there was a lined sheet of paper, with a pen tied to it with a string of twine. “We might be able to get a decent line up for October.”

Dreyfus liked to get suggestions from employees about what movies to show during holidays. Billy rarely took advantage of this privilege, except, like Randy said, during October. It was his one opportunity to put on his favorite films of all time. He’d already written a good amount, but they had little chance of actually being selected. Too disturbing for the general public.

Maybe he’d throw in some tame ones today. Something was bound to stick.

Randy and Billy goofed around, talked shit, and finally had every movie prepped for the night by the time the first few cars started coming in. At six pm, Randy was leaving. Dinner with his parents. Mandatory. Billy called him a fag and a Momma’s boy for complying, while actively ignoring the tug of jealousy that pricked his chest. Now, alone with nothing but the sound of the film whirring, Billy shook his head, and pulled out his school work.

The hours ticked by.

“Hey,” there was a knock at the door fifteen minutes into the fourth showing of the night.

Billy looked up into the sweet smiling face of Casey Becker. The only reason she mattered at all was because she used to date Stu. Billy didn’t know the full history of their break-up, the four-one-one on who dumped who depended entirely on who you asked, but everyone was on the same page when it came to the reason. Casey was a slutbag whore who cheated on Stu with football meathead Steven Orth. Billy hated her. Hated her for Stu.

“Doing alright in here?”

“Fine.”

“You eat yet? It’s getting late.”

Billy tensed when she stepped into the projection room. Technically no one but Billy, Randy, and Mrs. Dreyfus was allowed in here. He wouldn’t care either way, if that person wasn’t this fucking bitch.

“I called a pizza.”

Casey was on Billy’s list. He had plans for her. It was extra dangerous because they were co-workers, but all that changed for him was how careful he was going to be.

She laughed and Billy wanted to slit her throat. “On a Friday night?” She flicked her fingers over the papers pinned up on the cork board. “You won’t see it for an hour at least.”

“Just my luck,” Billy prayed for the day her blood would spill over his hands. How dare she imbrue Stu’s reputation. And she just got away with it, too. Her popularity never dropped. Now she was a cheerleader and dating some prick on the football team. It was a teenage rom-com dream. “If it’s not here in forty-five minutes, it’s free.”

“Well I’m closing the stand now.” She informed. “You sure you don’t need anything, maybe a break? I could watch things in here while you go.”

Billy clenched his fists. Could this bitch just fucking go? “You don’t even know how to work the projector, why would I leave you with it?” Ugh. Her semi-smile dropped. His tone of voice was too harsh. He’d snapped at her, even while she was trying to be nice, she wouldn’t let that go if he didn’t smooth this over immediately. Fucking hell. He cleared his throat, “Thanks Case, seriously, but no. I’m-I’m good here.” And now he’s betrayed Stu. Actually thanked the bitch who broke his heart. Billy felt fucking sick to his stomach. He closed his eyes and silently apologized, it was a necessary evil if he was going to get her later. “I’ll just see you tomorrow okay?”

A twinge of hurt flashed through her eyes, but she smiled and it was gone. “Sure. Tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

The second she turned around he stopped looking at her, couldn’t stand it anymore, and moved his focus back to his textbook. Billy swore to himself, yet again, that he’d make it up to Stu. She wouldn’t get away with it for long.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

Billy was home that night—or morning—by two thirty, holy shit. His dad was long asleep, the house was pitch dark. Billy crept upstairs to his bedroom and promptly peeled off his clothes. He took care not to slam his door shut, flicking his bedside lamp on, before moving across the room to his dresser. The light from the lamp bathed his room in a warm glow, soft enough on his tired eyes that he could see without needing to squint.

He shivered as he ruffled through the clothes from his dresser, and realized that his fucking window was open. He must’ve forgotten to shut it after this morning's smoke. He pushed through the curtains and in his irritation with the fact that he was already freezing from work, slammed the pane down. Whatever, his dad was a deep sleeper.

That rectified, Billy slipped down the hall for a quick shower. The hot water relaxed his whole body and pinked his tan skin.

He returned to his room for the final time in twenty minutes, barreling carelessly through the door once again. Billy accidentally knocked something off his bedside table. He closed the door with a curse under breath and picked it up.

It was a cologne bottle. Dark blue, ovoid shaped, like an elongated egg with a flat base so it could be set. Versace, Blonde, 1995 collection. New this summer, and very expensive. Too expensive for Billy to have bought himself. He’d never purchased one in his life. This one he stole, and not from any store. From Stu Macher’s gym bag at the beginning of the year. Idiot had left it out in the open. He was practically begging for Billy to take it. His parents gave him a new one by the end of the week, anyway, so it was fine. He still wore it. It smelled exactly like him.

Billy popped open the cap and inhaled. His brows furrowed as he groaned. His nerves tingled in his gut and rolled chills through his body.

He took a heavy seat on his bed, sinking into the mattress. His fingers twitched as they grazed the edge of his towel.

Fuck.

He set the bottle down with a hard clink and stared out into the darkness of his room. He should sleep.

It was Saturday, he didn’t need to sleep.

Fuck.

Billy got up, snatched the cologne, crossed the room, and dropped his towel. He opened his closet and pulled out his Prom Night shirt. He’d seen Stu with the exact same one once. It was too small to be true, but Billy liked to pretend his was Stu’s shirt. He sprayed it twice.

Holy fuck it was Stu’s shirt.

Billy inhaled, pressed the fabric against his face and groaned as the smell enveloped his senses. His dick stirred and he wrapped his hand around it. The tug was dry, harsh, and Billy was pulling too fast, too early. It hurt and that’s just how he liked it.

He separated his face from the shirt to move over and sat on the edge of his bed again, still tugging. He bit his lip and ran his thumb over the head of his dick, spreading precum all around and making the slide somewhat easier as his pace increased. His noises were getting louder and more frequent, lighting was shooting up the nerves in his legs.

Billy pressed the shirt into his face again, he groaned and imagined Stu. That flat, toned stomach, that wicked laugh. His blue eyes, the way he towered over Billy. He imagined that long tongue that Stu liked to stick out so much, and those cherry stained lips, wrapping around his dick. Sucking Billy like a whore as he moaned and choked on it.

He needed more.

Billy paused. He desperately tugged the shirt on, going crazy that he now smelled like Stu, and roughly pulled open his bedside drawer. He grabbed his lube and squirted some into his palm. He continued pumping his dick, so fucking wet. His erection was red and angry and Billy nearly cried at how good it felt.

He pulled the shirt up to his nose and moaned. He laid down flat on his mattress and spread his legs, his whole body alit with pleasure.

Billy imagined Stu over him, smirking like a devil, playing with him, laughing as he did it. Torturing him. Billy squeezed his dick and twisted it harshly in the way he wanted Stu to. Whimpering when it hurt. It twitched in his hand. The pain felt so good.

Billy kept one hand on his dick, still squeezing and twisting, and lowered his fingers, still slick with lube, to his hole.

“Stu…” he moaned as he inserted two fingers at once. It fucking burned. But he was on cloud nine.

After a moment of adjustment, Billy started moving his fingers too, the scent of Stu’s cologne swirled around him. His legs completely fell open as he picked up the pace.

“Come on, come on,” Billy panted in agony, “fuck, please,” he was begging his invisible Stu.

Bastard knew what he wanted, he tortured Billy’s dick and refused to give it to him.

Billy imagined Stu’s maniacal laugh.

He keened, back bowing as his fingers found that spot. His body alit in pleasure. “Yes,” he panted open-mouthed. And kept going, kept pushing. His head was swimming, he could hardly breathe without gasping.

He pushed a third finger through and went right for that spot. He moaned loudly, writhing when he found it again. If only there were large hands pinning him down. Choking him, scratching up his body till he bled. He wanted teeth at his throat.

Billy rolled his hips chasing the bliss of his hands. He was close.

The most obscene sounds were coming from his lips, all mixed with Stu’s name. With the memory of his smile, his mouth, his lanky body. And that cologne, his actual scent. He was practically there, watching as Billy fell apart.

Billy’s orgasm hit him like a truck. He grunted as it punched through him. His vision went white. His back arched off the bed and cried out Stu’s name. His hands sped up for one moment, driving him through it, before he collapsed.

He slept very deeply that night.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

The boy was much too young. Couldn’t have been older than Billy’s age.

His hands were shaking. His mouth was gaped open in horror.

The rain pelted the both of them heavily. They felt as big as baseballs hitting Billy’s head and body.

The knife trembled in small hands. Hands whose fingers could hardly close over the handle.

Blood and water poured off the blade in rivulets. There was so much blood.

Blue eyes met brown.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

It wasn’t a complete day at school unless Billy was bothered at least twice in the halls between every class. Girls asking him out, old teammates wanting to talk game strategy, current classmates asking about student council policies, customers paying for his and Zach’s services. It was never a matter of if Billy was going to be stopped or when he would hear his name called by someone flagging him down. It was always who was calling and what did they want this time.

“So.”

Though Billy had to admit, it was curious when someone who never had before, stopped him for the first time.

“I think I can help you with your little problem.”

Especially when he wasn’t even at school, because it was Sunday, and he wanted to go to the mall today. That went double when the person in question wasn’t asking him for something, but offering their help.

“I don’t have a problem.” It was all Billy could think to say, because for some reason he found Stu Macher standing over him, as he tried to eat his shitty, overpriced chili fries in peace.

“Right,” Stu laughed, “Tell that to Miles Stilinski.”

Billy nearly choked on his bite in shock. He swallowed and looked into Stu’s amused eyes. Clearly this guy enjoyed messing with people. “How do you— I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. I think you know a lot of things,” Stu said cryptically. “I know a lot of things too.”

The way he smiled, especially smiled all the way down at Billy, unsettled him in the best ways. He almost looked crazy.

“I’m way into photography, you know,” Stu suddenly divulged. “Can I sit here?” He didn’t wait for an answer and simply took the seat.

Billy supposed that made sense, he’d seen Stu with a camera strapped around his neck walking around before. And not one of the tiny silver ones that moms used, but the chunky big ones with interchangeable lenses. Like Canon or probably something fancy like that.

But what the fuck did that have to do with anything?

“Um sure.” Billy nodded. Fuck. What did people do with their hands when their crush randomly ambushed them in public? His eyes were flicking over to Stu too much to look casual. It’s like they were magnetized to him. “That’s cool.” Fucking hell.

“Well, I’m just saying cause the other day you said we don’t know each other and that really hurt my feelings,” Stu sighed and propped an elbow on the table as he leaned his head against his fist. “So, cameras, photos, I’m on the school newspaper and yearbook committee. That’s something about me. What about you?”

Billy looked around them at the dozens of people passing them by. What was this guy doing here? What did he want? Billy has had his fair share of people asking for something. It was amazing how many of them first beat around the bush and wasted his time with niceties. He knew how to deal with it. The problem was that Billy didn’t wanna deal with it. He wanted Stu to waste his time. Billy could talk with Stu about nothing forever. He couldn’t just ask him to cut to the chase. Fuck that, he wanted to keep talking.

“I’m class president.” And Billy wanted to stab a fork through his eye. Stu fucking knows that. Billy knows Stu knows that. Why the fuck is he such a dumbass?

Stu snorted out a laugh. “Yeah, there you go. What else?” He reached over and stole a fry.

“Um I don’t really do much else around school,” Billy just watched him take it, too, he didn’t do or say anything to stop him. A quick memory of one of the last times he ate in the cafeteria flashed in his mind. Billy had almost knifed a kid for picking at his plate. “Pretty busy as is.” Ugh, he was so fucking lame.

“Sure, of course,” Stu shrugged, “well it doesn’t have to be about school, dude, like what do you like? Geez, have you never heard of small talk before?”

Oh, all of Billy’s life was small talk. Talking about shit that never mattered and pretending to care, that’s all he did. He was the master at it. He charmed people with small talk. He knew all the right phrases and responses. Only thing is, he didn’t want to do that with Stu, fake, and he didn’t know how to be anything else.

“I like films.” Billy tried again with something true. Fundamental. “I used to spend all my money at the old drive-in cause it’s the only place that played any decent movies.”

“Oh yeah?” Stu’s eyes lit up. He was beautiful. “I love the movies, man! What’s your favorite genre?”

“Horror.”

Stu’s smile spread. “Really? I pictured you as a gore-y slasher-type.” He took more fries this time, and talked as he chewed. There was chili sauce over his fingers, his cheek, his lips. It should be gross. Billy should be turned off. And yet all he wanted was to lick it clean. “I myself am a psychological horror enthusiast. Nothing like taking some normal fuck and torturing them till they’re either dead or crazy.” His laugh was entirely twisted.

Billy subconsciously leaned in. “Well I mean, you’re right. I prefer slashers. But people usually lump all ‘scary movies’ together so I usually just say something generic to give them an acceptable answer.”

“Aw man, I know!” Stu groaned. He threw both hands up dramatically. His whole body spoke when he talked. He was up, and down. He leaned out and pulled in. He shouted and whispered and emphasized. His body language was the definition of the word animate. “Just the other day my mom was like ‘they’re playing that thriller you like so much at Sunrise,’ and I was like ‘mom, The Changeling is a horror not a thriller’ and she totally blew me off! Can you believe it?”

“Did you watch it?”

“Huh?”

Billy felt lightning go through him when those eyes met his.

“The Changeling, did you end up watching it?” Billy had been working the night it played. He and Stu would have been in the same place at the same time out in the real world. And he would never have known it.

Stu shrugged and looked away again, “I have the tape at home, why would I go pay to see it?”

“To take a date maybe?”

Stu snorted, “Yeah right, what kind of chick would tolerate that as a movie date?” He looked at Billy, probably expecting to get a laugh in return, but upon seeing Billy’s face his smile dropped. His expression became thoughtful and he hummed. “What kind of chick indeed.”

Billy shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Uh huh,” Stu sounded kind of distracted as he said it. Then he snapped up with a smile. “You know photography comes with a certain skill. Observation. I see things, regular things in plain sight that most people miss.”

Billy shrugged, “Right, okay.”

“I can help you with your problem.”

“You keep saying that,” Billy stressed his irritation. “I don’t have a problem.”

Stu laughed darkly and Billy couldn’t help but feel like he’d accidentally said exactly what Stu wanted him to say. “Tell that to this guy.”

Stu pulled out a digitized photo and placed it in front of Billy.

Billy couldn’t believe it. It was him. He and Zach Hernandez and Miles Stilinski on the tennis courts just the other day. Zach was frozen in time, holding Miles’ arms behind his back. Billy was a pace or two out, his switchblade was pressed into his bottom lip as he thought. You could actually see the contemplative expression he was making. Out of context he looked evil. Like he was judging whether to kill Miles. He looked dangerous.

When Billy looked up at Stu his smile was more serious. More sadistic. “He sure looks like he’s got problems.”

Fire rose within Billy, he slid back the photo. “He looks like he’s solving them.”

“In his own way.” Stu agreed. He picked up the photo and handed it to Billy.

Billy ignored it and his glare burned into Stu. “So what the fuck do you want from me? You’re trying to blackmail me? Fine. For what?”

“Calm down,” Stu chuckled and held up a placating hand. He tried again to give the photo to Billy. “This isn't anything like that, and this is my only copy, I swear. Take it.”

“I don’t trust you.” Billy hissed. But he snatched it anyway and tucked it out of sight.

“I just wanna help, I swear.” Stu leaned away. “I’ll be your new greaseman.”

“You don’t know what we do.”

Stu rolled his eyes. “Like that’s so hard to figure out. You sell tests right? You and Hernandez are probably the two smartest kids in our grade. You’re both in advanced classes which means you get tests at least a week before the rest of us dumbfucks do, so you take ‘em, ace ‘em, and sell ‘em. Cha-ching! Only problem is, you can’t risk getting caught with the physical evidence, and your smart-popular social circles don’t clash with the masses. So, without a layman—that’ll be me—to reach out to the peasants who need it, your only customer pool becomes the smart kids who don’t.” Stu explained extremely eloquently. “That brings us to problem two, filtering. You need a guy who’ll not only get you consumers, but a guy who’ll get you the right consumers. No snitches.” Stu wagged his finger, “Stilinski was crap. He didn’t filter shit. He’d sell to anyone with a pulse, and you were smart to cut him out. So. Now. I want in.”

“How do I know you’re not just gonna snitch on us?”

Stu shrugged. “You don’t. But at least you know you can kick my ass if I do. Maybe use that pretty little knife on me too.” He stuck his tongue out as he laughed.

Billy wanted to know what it felt like down his throat. He imagined what using his knife on Stu would be like. With beautiful cuts adorning his perfect skin. Bruises too, Stu would look so good with a busted lip and a nice shiner.

“Alright, I’m not saying I agree to this.” Billy swiped a hand over his face.

Stu ducked in close. His face was brimming with excitement. “But?”

“But maybe we can do a trial.” Billy shrugged. “Two weeks, no pay. See what you can do.”

Stu blew a raspberry. “One day trial. Paid.”

“One week, ten percent.”

“Three days, forty percent.”

Billy laughed. What the fuck were they doing? Negotiating? It was so stupid. Stu ended up laughing with him, Billy could see he realized how ridiculous it all was and together they laughed all over again.

They leaned against each other laughing, Stu was hiccuping breaths while Billy tried to calm himself.

“Okay, okay,” his cheeks hurt. Shit, how long has it been since he laughed this hard? “You got me, you're hired.”

“Really?” Stu’s smile couldn’t have been more blinding. “Sweet.”

“But,” Billy sobered up completely. “You betray us, I use my knife.” He stuck out his hand.

“Don’t tempt me, baby,” Stu took his hand and they cordially shook.

Billy sort of forgot that it was actually Stu Macher he was talking to. His whole arm set fire beginning at their touch. His hand was tingling. Stu’s hand was so much bigger than his.

Stu broke their shake after much too long. Billy ate a fry about it.

Stu looked around for a second, while Billy internally freaked. He was never washing his hand again. “Wanna go hit the arcade?”

Billy’s mind went blank. “Yeah alright.”

Chapter Text

Billy didn’t know what he was thinking when he assumed at the arcade they would then go their separate ways forever. Life would go back the way it was right? They’d never see each other or talk. Billy would return to pining from afar. Well, not if Stu had anything to do with it, apparently. The guy stuck to Billy like fucking velcro. If it were anyone else at all, Billy would have scared them off by now, with intent, and a fair share of threats. But he had to admit, having a shadow was nice. Even if that shadow was a goddamn idiot with a motor running his mouth fucking twenty-five/eight.

Which brought Billy to monday night at the drive-in.

“So yeah, that’s about it as far as actually projecting goes.” Billy shrugs and watches Stu. He would never admit out loud his own nervousness, didn't mean he felt it less. “It’s pretty simple.”

“Still fucking cool.”

Seeing Stu look all around the room, walking the very few paces it took to complete the tour, poking, prodding, observing, made Billy see his dinky little closet with new eyes. It was half cluttered in an organized way, the projector itself took up like a fourth of the room and was awkwardly placed in the direct center. Entire wire shelves filled with movie reels sat behind them as a backdrop. The walls were all old movie posters and random flyers and announcements. There was no center light in the room, only for dim ones, each to a corner. And because it was so late, Billy couldn’t have them on without people able to see right through into the booth. So only their tiny desk lamp was on, that and the movie currently showing.

It was just past eight p.m. and Billy already had the first half of the next viewing set up and going.

Stu had shown up right at the end of the last one outta nowhere, said he was curious about Billy’s job from what he'd told him at the arcade.

Billy watched as Stu shivered and pulled his hands to cup over his mouth. Serves him right for not bringing a jacket, Billy had told him yesterday about the hidden dangers of his seemingly risk-free job.

“Oh yeah,” Stu suddenly perked up, he dug into his front pocket, producing a navy blue patch. He held it out to Billy with a face. “Have your sadistic, homemade, piece of the kid you mercilessly beat, back.”

“Oh it was merciful, trust me, I was holding back,” Billy snorted and accepted the piece. Although Stu was right, the patch was made by Billy from the shirt sleeve he’d stolen off Miles. “Thanks.”

He moved across the room to his backpack to put it away.

“Holy shit,” Stu stepped up beside him, seeing all the others. There were about seven or so sewn on. “I just realized how many of these you have. Is each one of these a fight?”

Billy nodded. “Everyone.”

“Why do you make them?”

“I don’t know. The first one was an accident. I’d ripped it off Dana-something when we were wrestling. I think it was second grade. That one was playful, but I still won and he told me to keep it.” Billy shrugged. “They’re just trophies, you know. Like a keepsake.”

“Some serial killer shit, right?” Stu questioned. “Aren’t they known for like keeping shit like that? From their victims?”

Billy shrugged. “Wouldn’t know.”

“So who’s that from?” Stu pulled at a bright green one with a yellow stripe in the center. “Caleb Moretz, fucking twerp tried to steal five bucks from me on a school field trip.”

“Wait Moretz, the ginger kid? Doesn’t wear deodorant, smells like a zoo?”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t the freshman year school field trip was it? To the aquarium?” Stu clarified.

“Yeah? Why?”

“No way, that’s a scream!” Stu laughed. “I saw him that day and asked him what happened, I thought he got mugged! He said he got mugged.” He ran a hand through his cropped, ash-blonde hair. “Fucking putz got his ass handed to him by Billy ‘hot pants’ Loomis.”

Billy groaned and shook his head. “Don’t call me that shit, I thought that was dead.”

“Maybe now,” Stu shrugged. “Being president kinda usurps that.”

Billy waved the thought away. He showed Stu another patch. A deep purple square. “Get this, Johnny Larkin.”

“No way! Fucking jag-off!”

“Way.” Billy nodded, a swell of pride ran through him. “Kicked his ass in the fourth grade.”

“Awesome,” Stu praised easily, “What’d he do?”

“He spit on me at lunch for no fucking reason.” Billy frowned as he recalled. “I was just sitting there.”

“No shit.”

“Yes shit.”

Stu laughed and shoved Billy’s shoulder good naturedly. Billy shoved him back and moved to put away his bag. He was still smiling.

It’s funny, they didn’t talk at all at school today, with one exception, and now they were just hanging out. Having fun. Billy found that as much as he already liked Stu, he liked being with Stu.

Speaking of, “Hey that was Hernandez’s drop off at my locker right?” Stu, who had just turned away to nosily read the flyers on the bulletin, faced Billy once again. He didn’t say anything. Just smiled knowingly. “Just cause he usually does it, so I assume…”

Stu shook his head once, and took a step closer to Billy. “All me, baby.” it wasn’t a big room, he had already been pretty close.

Billy swallowed. He didn’t know what to say to that. But for once, his quiet nature wasn’t an awkward lull in the conversation. Stu had enough words for the two of them.

“Is it always so freezing in here?” Stu was slouching, subconsciously or not, he was ducking more into Billy’s eyeline. Like he needed to.

Billy nodded. “Nitrate.”

“Well I can’t feel my fucking hands.”

“Die, I guess.” Billy shrugged.

Stu laughed, “No, no, this is your fault. You're gonna fix it.”

“How is it—”

But Billy was gasping, because Stu’s hands were fucking freezing! They clasped on either side of Billy’s neck and they were so cold it almost hurt. It made Billy realize the warmth of his own skin. He felt Stu’s fingers lace together at the back of his neck. His heart was pounding in his chest he had nowhere to look but up.

“Holy fuck, you’re like a furnace!” Stu’s eyes widened in surprise. “How are you so warm?”

Billy swallowed again, “I run hot.” His nerves were on fucking fire. Stu was basically choking him. Holy fuck don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get fucking hard. And certified menace Stu Macher was smirking over Billy, holding his neck.

Then Stu started rubbing his thumbs along Billy’s jawline and he couldn’t take it. His hands flew to Stu’s wrist. He didn’t want it to stop, but they couldn’t continue.

Especially not after Stu confirmed what Billy found in his locker today was from him.

✄–––––––—–––––

“Is there anywhere you and Zach can meet alone?” Billy asked as he concentrated on Dig-Dug. The sounds of the games and music and bustle of the arcade around them had long faded. Everyonce in a while a child screamed or laughed too loudly and it broke through. But mostly Billy just concentrated on Stu. “Maybe an early class you can ditch? Something?”

Stu snorted. “I mean, I’d hope so. We’ve got tech class together, first period.”

“Wait what,” Billy glanced at him for a second, “seriously?”

“Yeah man, no shit.”

“Perfect.” Billy smiled. His cheeks still hurt from laughing. Game over. Billy backed up, “then Zach will give you your cut, which was supposed to be Miles' last paycheck, he handles the money. And I’ve got stuff in my car I can give you to sell tomorrow. There’s a major grade test on friday.”

“Homecoming day? What subject?”

“Chemistry. Chapter one-point-seven’s A side.”

“Holy fuck! I need that one, I’m shit at science. Bombing with like a fifty-something.” Stu whined.

“Wow, a test like this would completely change your life.” Billy chuckled. “But no skimming.”

“What?” Stu practically squawked. “But I need it! Come on, this chapter’s got like a thousand vocab words.”

“Well I wasn’t anticipating finding Miles’ replacement so fast. I only made a limited amount of copies. Just what I thought Zach and I had a chance of selling,” Billy shrugged. “This means we're upping the price too, by three dollars. Rare product. There are only a few of these crib sheets. Value rises.”

Stu tsked, clearly pissed. “Fine.”

“Good boy.” Billy pat his cheek.

The change was instantaneous. Stu immediately perked up, smiling at Billy like he gave him the world. Geez, all he needed was a wagging tail and ears.

“Alright so I talk to Zach, how do I convince him that I’m legit?”

Billy hummed. He stood straight for a second and dug into his back pocket. “Give him this.”

It was a patch. Navy blue, cut in the shape of a triangle. There was a tag on it, black with white lettering, that had the logo of the company who made the fabric on it.

Stu’s eyes widened. “This is—”

“I don’t know to who or what you are referring.” Billy said firmly. He glared up at Stu, conveying his meaning perfectly.

Stu cackled. “So that's what that feels like.”

“I want that back by the way.”

“No problem.”

✄–––––––—–––––

And earlier today, Billy was at his locker after fourth period (work-study) grabbing what he needed for homework, and picking up his jacket before he left. When sitting there, on top of his pay cut, was a razor blade. There was a hole in the center of that flat piece of metal in a misshapen heart. It looked homemade. It had to be. Billy didn’t know of anyone who professionally sold razor blades with hearts in them.

He’d flushed when he saw it, he could feel it on the back of his neck and tops of his ears. He stared at it for a long time, hoping it was from Stu.

It was tucked into his wallet now.

“What the fuck?”

The record scratched.

Stu’s hands flew from Billy’s neck and both boys snapped away from each other.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! What was he about to do? Stu leaned in at the end there. Billy leaned too. What were they about to do?

Fuck!

Billy glared murder at the boy standing in the opened door. The interrupter's hand was still on the door knob. His upset was visible on his face.

“Randy.” Billy seethed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Dreyfus said I could make up my weekend shifts with you. Today and tomorrow eight to midnight.” Randy explained almost on autopilot. “So who the fuck is this?”

“Stu, meet Randy,” Billy sighed, “my dumbass co-worker.”

Stu instantly dropped the empty film reel case he was pretending to be enraptured by and went up to Randy, hand out. Smile wide. “Nice to meet ya, Stu Macher.”

“Randy, this is-this is Stu.” Billy didn’t know what to call him. He was just Stu.

“Right,” Randy nodded, he didn’t take Stu’s hand, just looked up at him before glaring at Billy. “Is he being trained or something? Did he just get hired?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “What? No. I’m just showing him around, doofus. He’s my friend.”

“Oh, well in that case,” Randy moved behind Stu and started shoving him out the open door. “No non-trained personnel allowed!”

“Randy, you freak, quit being such a spaz!”

“Hey, hey, easy,” Stu protested as he was pushed. “I’m going, I’m going! Hands off the goods, dude!”

Randy stood back and put his hand on the door. He smiled up at Stu, “Thanks for understanding.”

Stu only got out a distressed, “Uh, Billy—” Before the door slammed in his face.

“What the hell was that?!”

“Sorry that you and your friend think it’s so fun skirting the rules,” Randy moved to clock in, “but for those of us who take this job seriously, and also want to live, I had to intervene.”

“He wasn’t even doing anything,” Billy seethed. “We were just talking.”

“Yeah sure,” Randy rolled his eyes. “I don’t get what you homo’s call ‘talking’ cause whatever I walked into wasn’t it. And I’m not letting you risk my life and everyone else’s so you can ride some dick or something.”

Billy curled his fists. He couldn’t kill Randy. At least not here or now. But every fucking day of the week Billy wished Randy didn’t know that he was a fag. He was a total douche about it all the time. The only thing he didn’t do was tell anyone, like that made everything else better. Billy couldn’t have a hotdog from the concession stand without Randy saying something disgusting and vulgar. It was fucking exhausting. And it was going to get even worse now that he’s seen Billy with Stu. Fuck his life.

“You’re taking over, right?” Billy asked behind clenched teeth. As Randy moved around the small booth to set up and get settled, he didn’t look at Billy once, meanwhile Billy kept his burning glare on his back. “Till closing?” The drive-in closed earlier during the week.

“That’s what I said,” Randy answered without looking back.

“I’m going on break.”

He didn’t wait for Randy’s answer before stomped away.

“Don’t choke on it, sweetheart!”

Were the words Billy slammed the door to. Irritation swept through him in waves. Fucking asshole.

Stu was there, waiting on the other side with a smile. There’s no way he didn’t hear what Randy said in there. The walls were paper thin. Billy felt his flush rise over the back of his neck and his irritation cranked up to a full on rage.

“Come on, I need a smoke.”

He knew he didn’t need to, but he was angry. Billy grabbed Stu’s wrist and squeezed. Dragging him along. Stu stumbled his first steps before long legs caught up to Billy’s pace.

“Yes sir–woah!”

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

“And, as your nineteen ninety-five student body president, it is my honor to welcome you to the second day of Woodsboro High’s Homecoming festival,” Billy smiled brightly as he imagined stabbing one of the pumpkin carving knives into every eye of the smiling faces that looked back at him. “Hay rides start at seven, and the snack bar will be open until nine p.m. so get your hot chocolate while you can.” He chuckled, his voice echoed into the mic, a few parents and teachers laughed with him and he hated it. “Alright, have fun everybody, go Timberwolves!”

A resounding cheer followed him as he stepped off the stage. Fuck he needed a smoke. Or a drink. But the hardest thing he was going to find around here was a beer. Not that anyone would even sell him one.

“Mr. President, Mr. President!” Stu suddenly came rushing up to Billy with his camera, “Photo for the yearbook, sir?”

“Shut the fuck up, dumbass,” Billy shoved the lens back as Stu laughed with his tongue out and started taking photos.

Despite repeated verbal protests, Stu kept dodging Billy’s hands and snapping his shutter. All throughout, Billy was trying not to smile, and failing.

“Hey, Billy,” they both stopped moving. Their twin smiles faded at the same time. They weren’t the only two people on earth, it seemed. They looked to find a trio of girls, Stephanie Truligo and her little mall posse, smiling shyly at them, “that was a great speech.”

The two around her agreed with enthusiasm. But their final member smiled behind her hand, ‘Oh my god, Steph! Drop your panties, much?’ She not-so whispered in embarrassment.

Stu leaned against Billy, turning his face away as he failed to hold back his laughter. Billy pretended he wasn’t there. His cologne was so strong. “Thanks ladies, I appreciate it.” Billy gave them a crooked smile.

He and Stu turned and walked away without another word, ignoring the aftermath of the freak-out Billy caused by simply smiling.

“ ‘Omg’!” Stu’s voice was about three octaves too high. He fluttered his lashes and swished back imaginary long hair, “ ‘Billy, you’re just so hot! Can I suck your dick’?”

A thrill ran through Billy hearing Stu fucking Macher saying that to him. Even if he was only kidding around. Billy reached up to punish him somehow. The hammering of his heart wouldn’t slow. “You’re disgusting,” Billy pinched Stu’s cheek, hard. Stu yelped and playfully fought him back.

“But seriously,” Stu leaned away and raised his camera, “I need to do my job.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Fine.” It was all apart of the trade. Keeping up appearances. Being normal.

“Let’s go try at the carving station.”

Billy was one amongst a handful of other students, most of which were with their families. Stu picked his pumpkin, citing his ‘photographer eyes’ knew which one was the best, and sat Billy at one of the middle tables in between two families.

“Alright folks!” Stu backed up as he addresses the small crowd. He lifted up his lanyard, which had the school's mascot on the back, and the word ‘yearbook’ on the front in school colors, “I’m gonna be taking some photos for the yearbook, just keep doing what you’re doing, act natural, you all look beautiful. You there, ma’am, are you wearing Dior? That is gorgeous…”

And he stepped up and started taking photos. Billy tried to concentrate on carving—he’d decided a generic jack-o-lantern smile was best, it was simple, easy, and non-alarming—but Stu kept coming over to take pictures of him specifically. It was incredibly distracting. Like Stu’s entire focus honed in on Billy alone, he felt like an ant burning under a concentrated sunbeam. Stu would go and take like barely a picture or two of anyone else and loop right back to Billy. Burning him again.

Halfway through Billy dropped his carving instruments, “Don’t you have enough? Fuck off.” He couldn’t stand it anymore. His blood was singing under his skin. His arms were restless. If Stu took one more fucking picture Billy didn’t know what he’d do.

“Of you? Never.”

He’d long since slipped his camera strap from his neck, the mobility allowed for him to get better angles. So Billy reached up and snatched it right out of his hands.

“How do you like it? You ass,” Billy smiled and pointed Stu’s viewfinder at the man himself. He started taking endless pictures of Stu’s distressed face.

“Hey, quit it, give that back.” Stu stole it again in seconds.

He tucked it close and began checking through the photos Billy took.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Billy shoved him and stood to join him, “let me see.”

Stu snickered and showed him.

Billy had to admit, Stu’s pictures were pretty good. The framing, the light, the subjects, he made the pumpkin carving look lively and fun. Even got a shot of Billy’s toothy smile.

“Fuck me, delete that,” Billy groaned. “Do I really smile like that?”

“Ha! You look like a rabbit!” He smiled like the cheshire cat and pulled away. “Don’t worry, I’ll totally delete it later.” He said it in a way that made Billy believe he would not at all ‘delete it later’ but before he could protest this, Stu was nudging him. “Hey, I’ve got to go get some shots of the corn maze now.”

Oh.

Billy’s smile fell as he pulled away. “Yeah, um,” he also looked around, for something else to occupy his time with. There was always something presidential he was being forced to do. Maybe he could find Principal Himbry and finally get around to asking if Lunch DJ Friday could be monetized at the behest of Travis Cohen. “Yeah, I’ll just uh…”

“Stand over there I think.” Stu pointed under the giant welcome arch, where a cartoonishly smiling scarecrow guided maze adventurers in.

“What?”

Stu looked back to him. His brow furrowed. “By the scarecrow? Gotta show Mr. President welcoming the people, kissing babies and whatnot, right?”

Oh.

Billy was at a loss for words. “Okay.”

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

Billy crunched through the thicket, cussing under his breath. The sun was getting lower, must be around seven, just in time for hay rides to start. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself, out of frustration rather than need. Though the air was inlaid with a certain chill indicative of the time of year, Billy naturally ran very hot and reveled in the cool weather.

No, his actions were borne of irritation. He’d been stuck for about an hour now wandering Woodsboro’s fifth annual Harvest Festival’s most famous attraction, the corn maze. But Billy wasn’t giving up, he had five bucks in Stu’s wallet with his name on it. Whoever finds their way out of the maze first, wins. Unfortunately, Principal Himbry had boasted of this year’s maze being significantly more difficult than mazes previous, and it was starting to feel less like crowd-pandering bullshit.

Billy was at least forty percent sure he was going in the wrong direction, but turning back again went against every instinct in his body. Every now and then he ran into a fucking dead end. Each time there was another scarecrow caricature posted with a large wooden sign telling him to ‘Turn back!’ or ‘Try again!’ or the ever helpful ‘Oops!’ it was all so frustrating.

Billy sighed and went left. Nothing but more corn and others stumbling along. It was always a good sign when groups of people were going in the exact opposite direction as you, right?

“Hey ‘scuse me, can you help me?”

He turned at the sound of an unexpected voice.

“Sorry man, I’m just as lost as,” Billy was surprised to recognize the face of the person asking, “the next guy.”

“Oh,” the other person seemed to recognize Billy, too. “Um, Billy Loomis?”

“At your service.” Billy nodded, “or not this time. Sorry.”

“Ace Stilinksi,” the boy stuck out his hand. Billy took it politely. The sweater he was wearing was a forest green. “You know my brother Miles, right?”

Billy shrugged. “Knew him a little. We don’t talk much these days.” Ace was taller than his two brothers. About as tall as Billy.

The boy took a pause to eye Billy for a second. “Yeah well, don’t go down that way,” Ace gave an unconvincing smile and pointed straight to the middle path of a three point fork. He moved to take the path Billy was coming from. “Good luck, my friend.”

Billy moved out of his way and found himself once again gauging the morals of left vs. right. “You too, I’ll see you on the other side, huh?”

“Yeah you will, Loomis.”

Billy bit the bullet and went right. It was two more turns until he was seeing people again. He waved politely, with his scowl melting like spring ice, to a gaggle of girls that passed him in a chorus of ‘Hi, Billy’s.

“You ladies wouldn’t happen to know where the exit is?” He chuckled.

He received a few derisive laughs in reply as they passed each other. “Yeah, right.”

In hindsight, was it wrong for his instincts to lead him here because it was another dead end? Or was it very, very right?

Billy smiled and carefully pulled his switchblade from his pocket.

He slowly crept forward, silently advancing upon the lone figure at the end of the path. The unsuspecting person was pausing to take an innocent photo of a dead-end scarecrow. Billy kept to the balls of his feet and was careful to stay off the fallen shucked ears, who’s dry shell would crunch underfoot.

The second Billy was close enough, he cried out and threw his arms around Stu, blade at his throat, hand over his mouth. It was all at a difficult angle thanks to Stu’s freak-like height status, but Billy managed. “Don’t move.” He hissed.

The boy froze. Billy could feel Stu’s smile spread behind his hand.

“Ah!” Billy reared back almost instantly, looking from his hand to a cackling Stu. His palm pebbled pearls of blood. It stung like a son of a bitch. “You bit me!”

Stu licked his lips with an evil grin. “Self defense, baby.” He explained unrepentantly as he slowly set down his camera. “Now why don’t you put that thing away?”

Billy looked briefly at his knife. “You wish.”

He lunged forward, knife first, striking at Stu’s torso. Stu diverted his wrist, and shoved him back.

Billy growled and backhanded Stu across the face. Oh fuck. All of Billy’s fight left him that moment. He fucked up.

Stu stayed frozen for a second. Head turned. He slowly lifted his fingers to the new cut on his cheek.

Oh fuck, oh fuck. He’d blown it. Stu hated him now. Should he…apologize? Fucking shit! His temper was going to ruin everything. Again. He was going to push away the one person that mattered to him most in this world.

And then Billy was down.

Stu shot out unexpectedly and shoved him on his back.

Billy grunted when he hit the ground, his lungs expelling naturally at the impact. He was able to gasp one greedy breath before Stu was on top of him delivering a punch of his own to Billy’s cheek.

“Good one, baby.” Stu praised, smiling darkly.

Billy stared up at him as Stu’s hands ran down the expanse of his torso, stopping his his neck. Stu leaned down eye to eye with Billy and grinned brightly, applying ample pressure. Billy struggled under him, kicking his feet. He was losing the blood in his brain. And for more than one reason, part of it was going straight south. The less he breathed, the more aroused he became, the more he fought to get Stu off of him before the boy felt Billy’s little problem and the more Stu held firm.

Billy lifted his knife to Stu’s neck. He made a slight, but lengthy cut. Just a paper cut, three inches long. Nothing serious. A warning.

Stu groaned out loud upon incision, something long and deep, from the back of his throat. Billy saw the goose bumps rise over the flesh of Stu’s arms, right before he was groaning himself. Stu’s body involuntarily bucked and rolled right over Billy’s growing problem, electricity strung up Billy’s whole body. Wringing through him like a bell.

And then they were kissing. If it could be called that. There were moans that pushed the boundaries of the term coming out more like growls from both boys. Billy punished Stu for licking much too deliciously in his mouth by biting his tongue. Stu’s hips rolled again and he kissed Billy with more fervor. He squeezed the hands over Billy’s neck just a little too tightly, pushing just a little too far. It was like an electric shock, rolling arousal through his whole body, before going straight to Billy’s dick. Billy didn’t know how long they stayed making out. It was forceful, it was heavy, it hurt, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Somewhere out there a child shrieked in laughter.

Stu was off Billy in that next moment. They both took in their surroundings and found nothing but corn to their sight, a scarecrow, and each other. But they were in public. It was a chill October evening. There were footsteps of families nearby, their chatter, their bustle.

Stu and Billy breathed harshly.

Stu’s lips looked delectable, bruising red and tempting. That and the bleeding cut on his neck, a cut Billy put there. There was something so entirely possessive about it. Maybe Billy should be a vampire for Halloween this year.

Billy gripped the knife in his hands. He wanted more. Stu’s body was addicting. He wanted to tear it apart under his knife, just to stitch every inch back together again.

Billy licked the blade.

Stu whined across from him. His fingers dug into fists in the dirt. “If you keep that up I’ll take you right here. Don’t fucking tempt me, Loomis.”

“I want to change the bet.” Billy curiously declared, still eyeing the edge of his knife. After a beat of silence where Stu said nothing, he eventually motioned for Billy to continue. “If you make it out of here first, you can fuck me,” Stu took a sharp breath, “I make it out first, then I fuck you.”

Brown eyes met blue.

Billy gave Stu a crooked smile. “Fair?”

“Deal.”

✄–––––––—–––––

“What are you doing here?” The boy sniffled, he used his whole forearm to wipe his nose. Big eyes glared up at Billy. It was hard to tell he was crying because of the harsh rain. But Billy knew he was. “Who are you?"

✄–––––––—–––––

“Glad you could finally join me.”

“That was bullshit,” Billy sneered as he finally exited the maze. He shoved Stu’s smug face, “you cheated.”

“You can’t prove shit.” Stu smirked. “Sore loser.”

“Fraud.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven, honey.” Stu pulled Billy in with an arm thrown around his shoulder, and jerked him close. “We can go mini-golfing before I give it to you good.”

Billy struggled to free himself from the grip, his face was buried in Stu’s chest. He smelled like Blonde by Versace. “Stu, you fucking asshole!”

“No, no! I’m a romantic at heart, and I cannot deny it!” Stu proudly declared. “Ah!” He shoved Billy back and rubbed his chest. “You bit me!”

“Self defense baby.” Billy glared as he wiped his mouth.

“So seriously,” Stu laughed, “seven?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Dumbass. You don’t know where I live.”

Stu just scoffed. The blood froze in Billy veins as Stu relayed his actual home address from memory, “...that’s it right?”

Billy blinked. He took one step back. “H-how the fuck—?”

“Woah, woah,” Stu also backed up, he put his hands in the air between them. “We’re neighbors! I thought you knew that, it’s nothing creepy, I swear!”

“What? You live on my street?”

“No, behind yours. Our houses are like semi-diagonal from each other.” Stu explained. “You’re basically in my backyard.”

“Oh.” Billy made a face. “How do you know that?”

“How do you not?!” Stu laughed, “are you the least observant fucker on the planet? We’ve only been living across from each other since third grade.”

Billy shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I don’t give a fuck about my neighbors. Why would I need to?”

“So you don't remember that after all these years.”

“Whatever, I’m getting a hot chocolate.”

Billy walked away with no further fuss. He shoved his freezing hands under his pits with a scowl.

Stu scrambled to catch up with him, “Wait up, let me pay!”

“I’m not a girl.” Billy seethed. “I can buy my own fucking drinks.”

“You—”

“Hey Billy!” One of the cheerleaders, Lilly Matthews, suddenly came jogging up to them. “Principal Himbry’s looking for you, he wants you to do your speech again.”

“What?” Billy was appalled. He fixed his expression and laughed like he thought that was remotely funny. “Any idea why?”

“Yeah, a bunch of middle schoolers and their families just got here,” she gestured across the street. Seems parking had extended to the fields on the other side. “Apparently, their football game ran long. Come on, let's go.”

Billy turned away, and closed his eyes, regulating his breathing. He cursed the day he ever ran for president a thousand times.

“Hey,”

There was a hand on his bicep. Billy opened his eyes.

Stu was smiling down at him. “Give ‘em hell.”

Billy didn’t expect to laugh. He didn’t think he could in such a state, he was still so angry. But oh my god, “they’re middle schoolers, Stu,” he laughed again, damn it, “It’s a fucking school board approved speech. What hell am I meant to be raising?”

“You know what I mean.” Stu frowned.

“I know you’re an idiot.” Billy shook his head. “Thanks, though.”

Stu perked right up, and waved to Billy as he jogged away.

✄–––––––—–––––

Billy’s fake plastered smile dropped as soon he stomped back over to Stu. The speech had gone off without a hitch, of course. Dance monkey, dance. Ugh. It was infuriating. Billy flexed his hands repeatedly by his sides.

The lanky boy just gave him this heart-stopping grin that made Billy’s knees weak. He pulled two styrofoam cups from the concession counter and offered one to Billy.

“Did you have fun?”

“Shut up.” Billy accepted the drink just to walk over to the nearest empty table and set it back down. “I’m taking a piss. You’re staying here.”

“What? What if I have to go too?”

“Then fucking hold it.” Billy stepped up and gave Stu a kiss on the cheek. It was so fast, Stu didn’t have time to blink before Billy’s hands fisted his shirt as he scowled, “If you don’t behave, I swear I won't let you near my ass. Screw the fucking bet.”

“Yes sir.” Stu shivered.

Lighting electrified Billy’s body. He gave an ugly sneer and released Stu. “Ridiculous.”

Later as Billy washed his hands, he found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror. He turned his head this way and that, inspecting his jaw. Man, he needed to shave soon. The school was stupidly strict on the clean-shaven policy, and he didn’t want any excuses to find his ass sitting in one of Vernon’s stupid uncomfortable plastic chairs.

“Ah, Billy.”

Billy looked up to find Ace through the mirror. He put on a charming smile, “Hey, glad you made it.”

Ace Stilinski chuckled, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, you too.”

“Thanks.” Billy moved to pass him yet again, reaching for the paper towel dispenser that was mounted on the wall, but was stopped with a sudden hand on his shoulder. He immediately frowned, he couldn’t help it. The touch radiated revolt within him. It disgusted him.

“Listen,” Ace looked Billy in the eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what the hell happened to my brother last friday?”

Billy shoved his hand off. “What?”

“What happened to Miles?” Ace asked again, more seriously. “I know you were one of the last people to see him that day. His face was fine that morning, you know.”

Billy clenched his jaw. He hooked his thumb in the pocket that held his switchblade. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to the festivities.”

“No,” he shook his head. His glare matched Billy’s, “no, I don’t think so, Loomis. Not till you answer me. You were there. We both know it, so quit the shit.”

Billy said nothing.

“You did that to him, didn’t you?” Ace accused. His brown eyes were hard, full of ire. But they were nothing to Billy’s hate.

Again, Billy said nothing.

“You kicked the living shit out of him, fuck knows why, and worse, scared him so bad he won't even talk to me or Tommy about it.” Ace stepped up to Billy, breathing harshly. “Just admit it, you worthless piece of crap.”

“Fine.” Billy spat out. “Yeah I kicked your brother's ass. Pathetic little shit crossed me, so I gave him a lesson. And let me tell you,” He laughed humorlessly, “it was fun. You should’ve heard him begging me to st—”

Billy stumbled back when Ace hit him with a sucker punch straight to his mouth. He hit the wall.

Ace hissed out, “Fucker,” as he glared at Billy.

“Cheap shot, pussy.” Billy returned. He refused to wipe his mouth no matter how much it stung. He was bleeding for sure.

“Yo! Billy! Some of us are waiting here. What’s taking you so…” Stu’s eyes widened as he took in the scene before him, “Hey, what the fuck!”

He was running over to Billy in seconds, standing between them. He ran a thumb along Billy’s bottom lip. “I didn’t do that.” He said with almost no voice. His blue eyes were horrified.

“No,” Billy agreed, he looked from Stu to Ace, “he did.”

Stu’s eyes went dead. His whole body was totally limp for a second. Billy swallowed a nervous lump. Holy fuck. Stu might be a fucking psycho.

“Don’t worry baby.”

Billy nodded. What else was he supposed to do?

Stu quietly turned to Billy's offender, and since when had Stu ever done anything that could be considered quiet? And turned towards Ace.

“Nice going, bitch.” Stu sounded so unlike himself. His voice was low, there was this building rasp to it that eluded to a deeper rage within, Billy knew what that felt like. Unfortunately, for Ace, he didn't know what Stu normally sounded like, and was much less afraid than he should be, “Now I’m gonna have to kill you.”

“Billy Loomis is a piece of shit who hurt my brother. He’s the one that’s gonna die.” Ace rebutted. “But if I have to go through you first, then fine.”

Stu chuckled and put his hands up. “Come on, then.”

Chapter Text

Billy and Stu walked in a soft lull as he led them home that dark evening. No moon in sight.

They’d been walking for the past hour or so, still had half of that to go, Stu chattering the whole way.

“...all I’m saying is…” Stu threw his arms out for balance as he watched each of his steps carefully. He walked on the curb for someone with surprising precision who already had a whole pack of beer. Well really it was half a pack, as each individual bottle was passed back and forth between his lips and Billy’s. “...if you’re bored at Charlie’s simply because your brother’s, second cousin’s, neighbor’s, dog’s band isn’t playing that night, then maybe you’re the boring one, huh? Maybe try to look inward.”

Billy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the last beer sloshed in the bottle as he carelessly let his arm drop. “Yeah? And what did he say?”

“Nothing,” Stu shrugged, “just called me a slut for fucking enjoying music. Said my music taste was ‘easy’ just cause I didn’t know the band playing, and I said they were good. Fucking spaz. How does anybody get into anything then?”

“This guy sounds like a dumbass.” Billy laughed.

“Oh, a total drag.” Stu groaned. “Couldn’t let any of us have fun without saying something. You know those kinda people?”

Billy nodded. “I know them. Who invited him anyway? I thought you said it was just you, Wade, and Jeremy?”

“Fucking Wade, last time I trust that bitch. ‘He’ll get the first round.’ Wade tells me, and I listen to him. Of course I do, cause I’m a cordial guy.”

“If you do say so yourself.” Billy held out the beer. Stu immediately snatched it.

“ ‘He’s cool, he’s cool.’ Wade tells me, and I trust him,” and together he and Billy say, “like an idiot,” both nod knowingly, “worst fucking mistake of my life.” He downed a swig.

“So, he calls you a music slut.” Billy retraces. “What next?”

“Uggghhhhhh,” Stu momentarily drops his shoulders and casts his look of complete exasperation to the clear night sky.

Another half hour of walking and talking and they were finally on the fork in the road. Up the hill was Stu’s house. Straight ahead was Billy’s.

A single street lamp illuminated them in a halo light. Stu wrapped long arms around the stop sign and he leaned his whole body against it as he talked.

Billy sat himself on the curb and just listened. He wasn’t even facing Stu. There seemed to be no end to the things Stu had to say. Billy could listen to Stu ramble on, forever.

“But then she left anyway!” Stu sighed. “So I was just standing there, the dog’s going crazy, my foot’s still stuck in the thing. Meanwhile, I’ve still got half a pie left.”

“Stu,” Billy hummed. He closed his eyes and leaned back.

The surface of the sidewalk was still warm under his palms after twelve hours of baking in the sun. He stretched his legs out to the street, crossing his ankles. He’d hear it if a car was coming. It was probably fine.

The inky blue of a late night sky contrasted perfectly against the orange glow of the street lamp.

“Yeah?”

His voice was light. He was feigning ignorance. Pretending like he didn’t know exactly what Billy was interrupting him for.

A light breeze passed between them.

Billy liked the sound of the leaves of the nearby trees swaying against each other. And the light chirping of the crickets around them.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Stu’s footsteps scraped on the concrete, “we could come back to my place. My folks aren't home. They're on some lame ass business trip. Won’t be for like another ten days.”

He stopped walking and Billy opened his eyes. He didn’t turn to look at Stu, his gaze passed between the houses in front of them. Their porch lights, their lawn decor, their landscaping. Billy could physically feel Stu’s presence behind him, though they made no direct contact.

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“Yes.”

Billy snorted. That answer was much too fast.

“Best idea I’ve ever had. Someone should write it down somewhere.”

“Dumbass.”

“We can watch movies?”

Billy looked back at Stu, those big eyes met his. Stu’s brows were drawn up, he was frowning.

Billy silently reached out his hand.

“It’s empty,” Stu indulged as he slowly handed Billy the last beer bottle of the night.

“Maybe I don’t want it, then.” Billy dodged the bottle and kept his hand out, open towards Stu.

With even more hesitancy, Stu clasped Billy’s hand in his. His hand was so much larger.

Billy smirked and yanked Stu down. He yelped and nearly tripped over his own feet catching himself at first. The effort was cute, but futile. Billy had the pleasure of watching Stu flail out again as he continued pulling till the blonde was down next to him. His legs hit the sidewalk hard, Billy hoped it stung. He hoped it scraped Stu’s knees even under his pants. He hoped Stu was bleeding.

“Shit!” Stu hissed. He half-laughed looking from the hands rubbing his soreness away, up to Billy, open-mouthed, “What’re you—”

Billy led the kiss this time. Unlike their first which was so hurried and harsh, so desperate that he wasn’t sure who started it, this one was all him. He shifted his hips, pulling his legs from the street to curl between them. His knees knocked against Stu’s. Jeans brushed slacks.

Billy purposefully kept his hands to himself as their lips connected softly. One of his fists unfurled on the concrete between them, supporting him as he leaned in. The other hand was gripping his bended knee. His blunt nails were hardly able to indent his skin through the rough texture of his jeans, so he dug harder. It needed to hurt. The tighter he held fast, the less likely he was to give in to his burning need to hold Stu close. But stronger than his need, was his curiosity. What would Stu do?

Stu’s hum of pleasure vibrated over Billy’s lips. Billy opened his mouth further and allowed Stu in. Finally. Stu broke the gap twice over. His large hands came up at once to hold Billy’s cheeks. At least, in his palms, his fingers were so long as to simultaneously caress his jaw, lay over his ears and rest into the touch of his hair. Stu’s tongue was the second invasion, eagerly licking into its awaiting invitation, slowly getting deeper every time their kiss receded and breached together again. Something at first so innocent and quiet, now produced sound. Slick and heavy. Panting breaths matched between them.

The blood in Billy’s veins set on fire. Sounds of pleasure were drawn up from the recesses of his chest like water from an endless well. Stu’s mouth tasted like pizza and beer. He tasted like a clear october night, like the soft glow of a single street lamp, like a fork in the road where Billy didn’t know which path to take.

Billy tried twice to break away, but Stu pulled him back in both times and he couldn’t resist. Billy had never kissed anyone like this. Even the first time he had sex wasn’t this intimate. Billy felt like Stu was peeling him apart one layer, one caress, one minute at a time.

“Hell of a goodnight kiss,” Billy’s breath was harder to pull in, he exhaled in puffs. He wasn’t even smoking. Stu Macher tasted better than cigarettes.

“That’s just the sampler, baby.” Stu nudged Billy’s cheek with his nose and drew even closer than before. Their vast sidewalk got a little smaller. “Come to my place for the main course.”

Billy snorted and shoved at Stu. It was hardly enough to push him, much less push him away. When Stu came back, it was bolder. Deeper. Always hungry for more than he was permitted. Greedy. Long arms wrapped around Billy’s middle.

Billy rubbed his aching eyes. “That was the least sexy thing I’ve ever heard. Do girls really fall for that?”

“No.” Stu shrugged. “But you’re not a girl.”

“I’ve gotta go, we’ve got school tomorrow.” Billy reminded. “It’s late, Stu. I’m tired. Goodnight.”

“Just crash with me. Where’d you say your dad was again?”

“Shut up. You remember.”

Billy didn’t have a ride from the festival. It was supposed to be his dad, who had successfully dropped him off no problem, but he got ‘tangled up’ at work and wouldn’t be home till at least eleven or midnight. Hank (because Billy stopped calling him ‘dad’ the moment he learned about his infidelity) was even pleasantly relieved when Billy said he might have a friend willing to take him in for the night. So he was scott free to be with Stu.

“So whats the fucking problem?”

“The problem is I’m not having sex with you tonight Stu. That’s why you’re inviting me, right?”

Stu dramatically pulled Billy close with a loud gasp. “I resent that implication!” Billy shoved him off more harshly with a hiss of cuss words. “I am only trying to be a good friend.”

“To your dick maybe.”

“Well someone’s gotta look out for Stuart Jr.” He defended, which Billy had to look away from him for, lest he be encouraged by his smile. “But seriously dude, I wont try anything tonight. Just come with me, you already told your old man anyway.”

“No.”

Stu whined, dropping his head to Billy’s shoulder. “Why not?”

“Because I still don’t trust you.”

“Bull.”

Billy glared at Stu. “I said no.”

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

Looking around Stu’s, or apparently their neighborhood, was a little stark. The houses on this street were much larger than what Billy was used to seeing on his side. Billy squinted his eyes in the dark, slightly annoyed at the faint orange glow of the street lamps that were too few and far between to be helpful. There was a hum buzzing through his skin, seeping into his bones at the satisfaction of a typical humid night. Stars winking at him softly, not too brightly tonight. Stu’s constant speech was like a blissful sort of backdrop for a nice clear walk home.

Stu seemed relaxed. His hands were waving about as he spoke, voice carried further than the light provided by the street lamps, if only they were as bright as he. Then Billy could see just as if the sun were still out. His smile was brazen, he laughed unabashedly. He was lively as ever.

“There she is.” Stu finally announced.

They’d been coming along this honest to goodness white picket fence for what felt like ten minutes, when they finally happened along the house itself.

It was a gargantuan monster. Bigger than Billy ever would have thought. With the most yardage they’d so far passed.

“You live here?” Billy nearly laughed. No wonder his parties were legendary.

“Yep.”

Billy had to admit, he was only kind of sure Stu’s key would work when they finally came up to the front door. But it did, very easily. Stu passed the threshold with a sigh.

“Welcome to the Macher residence.” He smiled.

Billy kept his head on a swivel as Stu went around turning on lights, and more lights, there was so much house it was insane.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Billy murmured.

“So,” Stu clapped as he reappeared from nowhere. “Got the house to ourselves for the time being. My rooms upstairs, if you wanna go chill. Or we could hang here, whatever. You said you liked slasher’s right? I’ve got a good amount we could burn through. Beers in the fridge. Can pull some cigars from my dads office, if you want.”

“You’ve got everything you need at your fingertips,” Billy half-joked. “How ‘bout just a shower for now. You got clothes I can borrow?”

Stu blinked. “Uh, yeah. Um. Yes. Let’s-let’s go to my room.”

He jerked a thumb behind him towards the stairs and took off without waiting for an answer.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

Billy could tell that he was tense.

The way his fingers twitched when set idle for a second too long. The way his smile, though wide, still carried this uncharacteristic tightness to it. It didn’t reach his eyes.

They both taken their showers and were now lounging on Stu’s bed watching The Exorcist and talking. Only Stu wasn’t really talking. He was evading. It sounded no different than his usual meaningless babble, but his body language was entirely changed.

About half an hour into the film, Billy kicked him.

Stu was draped over his bed on his chest clutching a pillow under him. Billy was just the opposite next to him. A leg stretched out, the other up with his hands clasped together at his knee. His back was leaning against Stu’s dark blue wall. He was pressed up against one of many, many movie posters. Mostly horror films, but he had other genres up, there was a Jaws poster on the inside of his closet door.

“Ah!”

Billy had gotten him in the side.

Stu twisted around with a pout. “The fuck was that for?”

“You're thinking too much. It's fucking annoying.” Billy sneered.

“Dude. What are you talking about? I'm just watching the movie!”

“Right, I forgot I was born yesterday.” Billy scoffed. “You done being a little bitch? It’s over. Quit whining.”

“You're the one bitching.” Stu grumbled as he turned back. “I wasn't gonna say anything.”

For a moment only the noise of the movie quelled the silence in the air.

Then Stu snapped. “He got off way too fucking easy, alright? It fucking pisses me off.”

Just as Billy thought, Stu was still thinking about Ace Stilinski and the disaster Billy prevented hours before...

✄–––––––—–––––

“Give me your knife,” Stu had demanded, while he stared at the body before them with a smile. He held his hand out in a beconing manner. “I wanna see what his insides look like.”

Something unlocked then in Billy’s brain. A distant something. The echo of a time long passed.

"Who are you?!"

A voice calling out to him, and he returning that call.

"I'll help you bury it."

He felt like he was so close he could almost touch it.

"Wanna see what its insides look like?"

Then Billy felt Stu’s hand going for his pocket.

“Stu.” Billy stopped him with a harsh grip on his wrist. “He’s not dead. You knocked him out. It’s over. You won.”

“I can fix that.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Billy admonished. “If you hurt him, if you do this now, we’ll get caught. Do you hear me? There are hundreds of witnesses outside. All of them will tell a hundred different pieces of the same story and we’ll both go to jail for the rest of our miserable lives.”

They both knew he was right. Didn’t mean either had to like it.

✄–––––––—–––––

Stu tsked as he sat up, he was still pouting. He slumped on the wall beside Billy. Clutching his pillow to his chest. “Fucking twerp was out by the third punch.”

Billy said nothing for a moment, just chewed his bottom lip in silent contemplation. He had been debating doing this, but he felt like he might've owed Stu. At least Stu’s indulgence, and his own desires would be satisfied if he did it. He couldn’t begrudge Stu his wishes when Billy himself still wanted to kill Ace for the whole thing. Mind made, Billy left the bed.

He could feel Stu’s unspoken question at his back. Neither said anything.

At least not until Billy stripped himself of Stu’s shirt and sweatpants.

“Uhhh,” Stu said stupidly as he stared. Billy ignored him.

When he eventually came up to Stu, he was concealing something in his hand, but Stu was too busy looking at his body to even notice.

“Uh, Billy?” Stu gave him a desperate look.

Billy kept his cool demeanor. He was told his neutral face still looked a little cruel, often times, even when he wasn’t speaking to anyone or doing anything, he still controlled the expressions of his face to remedy this. He refused to do so, now that he was alone with Stu. His naturally frowning face looked down at Stu.

“Shirt off.”

Stu sat up immediately and tossed it away like it personally offended him.

Billy climbed towards the center of the bed, “Pants.”

Stu did the same with his pj bottoms. Billy sat on his knees, and waited till Stu moved to face him.

There was a click as Billy flashed his blade between them.

Stu’s muscles tensed, he ran his hands down his thighs and back as he looked from the knife to Billy.

Billy brought the tip to Stu’s lower abdomen and very gently, very gingerly, without piercing skin, dragged it up Stu’s torso. “You still want to hurt him.” He clenched his fist as Stu shivered. “You want to cut him open. See him bleed.”

Stu nodded. “Uh huh.”

“So do it.”

“What?”

Billy suddenly pulled the knife away, flipped it in his hand, and held it handle-first out to Stu.

“Use me, instead.”

“What?”

“Use me.”

Stu stared at Billy for a long time. Looked into his eyes, Billy never wavered. Stu had to see he was serious. He must’ve found what he was looking for because he eventually grasped the handle.

“Are you… sure about this?”

Billy sat up, putting his chest on unobstructed display, his hands ran over his bare thighs, bunching Stu’s boxers he was wearing, before gliding back down. “Wherever, whatever you need.” His blood was singing, “No stabbing though, and don’t kill me.” He smiled.

Stu snatched the knife to his chest like it could have burned Billy. “Billy, I-I don’t think—”

“Don’t be a pussy.” Billy snapped. “You need relief, and we both know this’ll just get worse if you ignore it. So, come on.”

Stu suddenly launched forward, he held the knife to Billy’s throat, when Billy jumped because he sure as fuck wasn’t expecting that, Stu’s other hand came to hold the back of his head. He held firm. Billy couldn’t move at all.

They both froze. Billy’s heart was jackhammering.

Stu kissed him right as he felt a sharp sting at the base of his neck. A noise like a high-pitched whine, something that Billy had never heard before in his life, suddenly came out of him. Stu’s lips muffled it. Billy threw his hands to Stu’s waist, pinching and kneading and pulling at the skin there. So soft, so nice. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t obstruct Stu and so he held onto his waist like a life line waiting for the next one.

Stu did not disappoint. Billy was crying out again in between the heat of their lips. A sting at his ribs. This one was longer than the first. Flames roared from it, licking up Billy’s whole side, oh, it felt so good.

Stu licked into Billy’s mouth, he drew up to his knees. His hand was still holding Billy’s head, which was now forced up and back. Billy moaned something deep when he felt the pad of Stu’s thumb prod the new wound at his ribs.

Stu suddenly separated their kiss. He looked into Billy’s eyes. He was practically shaking. “You good, baby?”

“Peachy.” Billy answered a little loopy. His smile felt loose.

“Good, g-good.” He breathed. He pulled his hands away, “wanna lie back maybe?”

Billy looked up at Stu before nodding. They shifted till Billy was on his back, legs up between the two of them and Stu was on his knees before Billy, blade in hand.

“Gonna ruin my sheets,” Stu murmured, but he wasn’t looking away from Billy’s body.

Billy shrugged. “Then stop.”

“Fuck no.”

He pulled Billy’s legs apart, inserting himself between them. Billy held still. Stu’s free hand slid up Billy's entire torso.

“Fuck me.” He whispered. “Fucking gorgeous, baby.”

“Skip the bullshit. I’m not a girl, you don’t have to compliment me to get under my dress.” He scowled. “Just do it already.”

“It’s not bullshit.” Stu furrowed a brow, his eyes were following his hand as it continued to move.

It was big, warm. Billy shivered involuntarily.

Finally he stopped at Billy’s abdomen.

Stu shook his head. “Oh my god.”

He made the next cut.

Billy’s thighs squeezed around Stu, his eyes closed as he clenched his teeth. His fingers went from the bed sheets to Stu’s waist.

“You’re holding back, don’t.” Stu breathed. There was this look in his eyes. It was dark, and wild. Worst of all, pleased. Billy loved it. “Don’t hold back.”

“Don’t say that shit to me.” He hissed. “I’m letting you cut me open, I can do what I—” he gasped when Stu did it again, literally cutting him off. “H-holy fuck,” he groaned.

“Holy fuck.” Stu repeated. Just as amazed as Billy. Together they just breathed, holding still. “We’re totally not having sex tonight, right?”

“Definitely not.”

“Okay.”

Stu reached up over Billy and set the knife down. It clanked against the hardwood of his bedside table.

“What? Wh-what are you doing?” Billy pushed up a little. Looking from the knife to Stu.

“We’re done.” Stu said in a very resigned manner.

Billy felt ice water pour over him. “What?”

“Dude, trust me, it’s not that I don’t want to continue.” Stu began.

“Don’t call me ‘dude’ when we’re both half naked on your bed and you fucking cutting me with my own knife.” Billy hissed. He scowled hard.

“No need to get pissy with me,” Stu laughed. “I’m doing the right thing. If we continue, I’m just gonna fuck you, and you don’t want that. So we’re stopping now.”

“What?” Billy swiped his hair back, anger rising. “Can’t fucking control yourself? You gonna go psycho on me? Can’t handle it, Macher?”

“This is the definition of control, Loomis.” Stu defended. “I’m stopping, aren’t I?”

Billy leaned back on his elbows. He kind of just stared at Stu. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t want to stop, but if that meant— “Ah!” Billy jumped when Stu pinched at one of his bleeding cuts.

“Sorry!” He smiled, “sorry, it’s just…I can’t help it.”

Billy looked at his apologetic face and took a deep breath. He laid back down. “Okay.”

Stu looked up. “Cool,” he leaned away, “so I was thinking we put on Entity next, but if you want something more light-hearted I just rented Motel Hell, and I don’t mind watching it again.”

Billy shrugged. His whole torso was singing with pain. He honestly didn’t give a fuck what Stu did. “Got any more beer?”

Stu winced. “Don’t think so,” he stood then, backing away from the bed, heading towards the connecting bathroom as he kept talking. “My parents hosted a block party last weekend and blew all the coolers.”

Billy blew his disappointment between his pressed lips, “Lame.”

“Well... my dad has a secret stash of hard liquor in his office?” Stu tried. He was ruffling through all his cabinets, it sounded like he was knocking over everything in sight.

“What kind of liquor?"

“Uh…” Stu hummed distractedly as he ducked under the sink, “mmm, maybe… Brandy? Rum? Sherry? Something dark.”

“What the fuck are you doing in there?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Stu’s voice echoed a little weirdly as he moved around. “Don’t mind me.”

“I’m taking over your tv.”

“...Yeahp. Sounds… good, buddy. Good job.”

“Oh my god,” Billy groaned and sat up. His body jerked when his cuts lit up in sharp stings. “Fuck.” He hissed. Fucking worth it. And Stu Macher had been the one to put ‘em there.

He kicked over the pile of VHS tapes stacked on the carpet by Stu’s bed. All movies he’d seen a million times. He found Entity on Stu’s bedside table and snatched it up.

By the time he was inserting the tape, watching the VCR automatically eat it up while it clicked and ground on the inside, Stu was finally emerging from the bathroom.

In his hands was a first aid kit. “You afraid of needles, blade boy?”

Billy smirked.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

Billy said nothing. He was the one who approached the boy from the bushes. He hadn’t meant to stumble onto whatever this was. He was just looking for his ball.

Billy looked from the small boy to the bloody kitchen knife in his hands, to the dead dog between them.

Billy had questions. But he knew if they were in the reverse, and this boy (with eyes that were much too blue) had stumbled upon him the night his parents took his game cube away and he went and killed their neighbor's cat, he wouldn’t have wanted any questions. Or anyone to see. If someone had accidentally found him that night, he knew what he would want them to say.

“You’re not a freak.” Billy shook his head. He wiped off the rain from his eyes. “You’re not a monster. I get mad sometimes too.”

The kid gasped. He looked up at Billy in surprise. “What-what do you mean? If my mom and dad saw this they’d be so mad at me!”

A chill ran through Billy. Like he with the cat, this boy felt no remorse for the evil he committed, and was only distressed at the thought of getting caught.

“I’ll help you bury it, then.” Billy smiled. He then pulled out his dads giant pocket knife. It had a million different blades that you could switch between. It was so big in his hand, probably bigger than his face! “Before we do, wanna see what its insides look like?”

The boy nodded, a little awestruck. When he asked, “Who are you?” again, there was no venom in his voice this time.

“Billy.” Billy shrugged and settled in the sopping wet grass beside the boy. Ugh, his mom was gonna be mad he stayed out so long in the rain. But the rain was fun. Plus! Dead dog!

“Can I marry you someday?”

Billy’s attention snapped back to the boy beside him.

He looked perfectly serious.

“No. We’re men.”

The boy shrugged. “I’ll do it anyway. We’re the same. You can’t tell me I’m gonna meet a girl who understands this stuff like you.”

Oh, Billy hadn’t thought about that. He already had to hide his bad thoughts from his parents. His parents were married. They lived with each other. Now that he thought about it, a lot of married people lived together. He would have to hide these thoughts all his life from some girl he didn’t know.

“Okay then, you can marry me.” It seemed the most logical.

“Yes!”

“Now help me pull the knife up, I can’t get it.”

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

Billy awoke with a start. "Ah shit!" His body jerked against the sting of his stitches. He felt the bandages peppering his body where Stu cut him.

Was that...a dream?

It was no question that that’s what he dreamed last night, but was it just a dream? It felt more like…a distant memory.

For example, in his dream Billy never found his ball. Never even lost it in the first place, he’d never seen it at all. But somehow he knew it would be yellow with blue and red stripes.

His dream had been vague, just hazy details at best. But he remembered wearing overalls with a dark blue shirt. He had theorized getting caught in the rain in overalls wasn’t so bad because they at least weren’t his nice clothes. But when he got sick for the next few days, his mom seemed just as mad.

It was someone’s dog, too. Not just a random stray off the street. A mean dog that belonged to an even more vicious old lady. Like pet, like owner, every time Billy walked from the bus stop home and vice versa, the dog barked at him like mad through the fence, while the owner yelled at him from her porch.

That must’ve been years ago. The last time Billy remembers being annoyed by that dog, he might’ve been eight, ten at the oldest. It had just…suddenly disappeared one day.

Stu stirred next to Billy.

“Mm,” he felt for Billy on the bed, Billy could hear his arm moving lazily through the sheets. “Wha…? Oh,” Stu found him sitting up, “you good?”

Billy looked back at Stu. He was sure. It was a memory. Something he’d long since forgotten.

Billy nodded with a small smile. “Yeah.”

“What time is it?”

“Like five fifty, or something. Maybe six.”

Stu groaned and grasped at Billy’s waist, “Then get back over here, we don’t have to be up for ages, dude.”

Billy followed his lead and laid back down, allowing Stu to engulf him in arms and legs. “Night, Stu.”

“Mm, night.”

Chapter Text

“Did you hear about Stilinski?”

Billy didn’t move. But the lull in his brain ceased and all his muscles tensed. He had been previously fighting the urge to stay awake. Panic was one hell of a natural caffeine.

“Yeah they found him in the bathroom.”

“What? I didn’t hear that!”

There were whispers around him. It was third period English, they were supposed to be grouped up and working on their individual analysis paragraphs of how the events of Edgar Allen Poe’s life attributed to his works. Billy had finished his ten minutes ago and was just waiting for the teacher to announce that they trade papers and grade their fellow peers.

“He was taken to the er,” proclaimed the first voice. “I heard they called the paramedics and everything.”

“Holy shit, what happened?”

“No one knows,” Billy breathed. “But they think it was some douchebags from Wagstaff who snuck into the festival. Apparently Ace just beat their best record by a mile.”

“Fucking scum.”

“They should pay.”

“Hey, Billy.”

Billy looked too quickly over at one of his desk partners, Noah Lieberman, at the sound of his name. Billy didn’t know much about the kid. He was a theater geek, he kept quiet mostly, maintained a good enough GPA that Billy had him in a few classes throughout the year.

“Yeah?”

“I heard you were gonna be homecoming king this year.”

Billy gave a derisive chuckle. “Yeah, not if I can help it, but it’s not really up to me.”

Lieberman shrugged. “Guess not, but uh, hey, does this mean you’re throwing another party?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Billy indulged with an easy smile. “But you’re far from the first person to ask.”

“Well, that’s probably for the best,” Lieberman iterated. “I heard that Stu guy’s also throwing one. You think you can put in a good word for me? I heard Chrissy’s going for sure.”

Billy nearly rolled his eyes, this was beneath him. “What do you want, Lieberman?”

“What?”

“We both know you don’t give a fuck about the homecoming dance. Or whoever’s party. Or Chrissy Cunningham, who’s way out of your league by the way, so save my intelligence and cut the bullshit.”

“Fine,” Noah sighed, he looked around them and leaned in close. “I heard about your little…side business. Heard that maybe you like to tutor people who need help passing tests.”

“There we go,” Billy’s smile slipped from the all-american charm boy winner, into a more lecherous grin. “Yeah, I think I can help you out.”

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

“Ladies,” Billy saddled up between Lilly Matthews and Sky Aldrich. Co-captains of the cheer squad. “A little bird said you got some good news for me?”

“Hey Billy,” Lilly smiled, twirling her hair.

“We wanted to go with you to the homecoming dance.” Sky tilted her head. “Think you could handle it?”

Billy tried to look pleasantly surprised. “Uh, um—”

Lilly laughed and shoved Sky’s shoulder, “Shut up! Don’t worry, she’s just messing with you.”

“Oh,” Billy laughed his relief, “that’s unfortunate, I was already matching my tie with your dresses.”

“Such a charmer.”

“Okay let's make this fast,” Matthews tossed the tail of her high pony over her shoulder, “we got study hall.”

“Isn't that a free period?”

“Tsha,” Aldrich Scoffed. “But Todd Morris and Becky Sandhurst just had a totally heinous, totally public breakup on the quad this morning, and they've both got study hall too. We're dying to get good seats.”

“Please, don't let me keep you. What's up?”

“We know it was you that got Stilinski the other day.” Sky infomed.

Billy’s smile dropped, he took a quick look around the hall, but it was empty aside from the three of them, no one was going to be swinging by the cheer squad’s tumbling rooms this late. All the squad members had already long since left. Co-captains can call for early dismissal like that.

Billy still shifted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lilly laughed. “Please, it’s okay Billy, we’re not snitches.”

“Your secret’s safe with us.”

“Well, kind of.”

“We told ‘Corny’ Lorney.”

Billy’s whole body seized.

“But before you get upset,” Lilly threw out a placating hand, “it was only after he was celebrating with us…”

Sky put her pinched fingers—index and thumb—up to her pursed lips and mimed smoking a blunt. “ Celebrating. ”

“...telling us all about how resident douche-nozzle, and his personal bully, Miles Stilinski, got his ass handed to him by some mystery white knight a few days ago.”

All of the tension in Billy’s body left him in a single breath of relief. Miles. The Stilinski they were talking about was Miles. Fucking hell. Okay.

“You’re the white knight, ain’t ya, slick?” Sky nudged his shoulder good naturedly.

“And he swore if he ever found out who it was, that person could get free joints from him, for life.”

“As you know, Carter Lorne is the best dealer in school.”

“He wants you to ‘give him proof’ or whatever, that it was you who kicked Miles’s ass.” Lilly rolled her eyes, “but he was practically eating the truth right out of our pom-poms.”

Sky dug something from her hello kitty themed bag. She held it out to Billy, “He sends you this in advance, with good faith.”

Billy accepted it. It was a ‘Corny’ Carter Lorney genuine. A black match box with a hand carved flaming skull on the front with the ‘CCL’ initials. Inside Billy would find paper and grass.

“How'd you know it was me?”

Sky nodded to her bestie. “You mean besides the fact that Lil’ saw the whole thing out on the courts? She said you looked real pissed too, and we already knew he was a no-good piece of shit, cause he beats Lorney on the regular. Figured you had your reasons.”

“It’s true.” Lilly confirmed crossing her arms. “Now I don’t know what he did to piss you off, but it looked like bad news, so I asked your friend what was up.”

Billy only looked at her curiously.

“You know, the photographer.”

“Stu?” Billy was surprised.

“Yeah, the tall one.”

“Huh.”

“He said it was a small matter between friends, and that he was your look out for teachers and snitches or some shit.” Lilly nodded. “He wouldn’t let me leave till I promised not to rat.”

“And we might be bitches,” Sky smiled, “but like we said, we’re not snitches.”

“Besides, that Miles was an asshole. As far as we’re concerned, you did the world a favor.”

The bell rang out over the three of them.

“Oh fuck!”

The two girls jumped. Lilly looked apologetic at Billy as she started to back away. “Sorry, gotta run. Enjoy your stash!”

“Thanks ladies, I’ll make it up to you,” Billy called back.

Sky was needlessly pulling at her friends uniform sleeve as they both sped up. “Just save us a dance, Loomis! See you at Homecoming!”

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

“Yes, yes? What is it? Oh,” the man answering the door blinked in confusion for a second. “Um, are you looking for Billy?”

Billy’s head perked from the kitchen. He checked the time, who the fuck would be asking for him at six forty-eight on a Wednesday night?

“Billy! Your friends are here to pick you up!”

Now Billy was more confused. He wasn’t going crazy, right? He didn’t remember making plans with anyone. Especially not on some random night in the mid-week. He popped the current Bagel Bite he was eating into his mouth and walked around the kitchen bar. Moving through the dining room, passing the living room (Hank was watching the Bucc’s vs. the Broncos), to finally reach the front door.

“I should have fucking known,” Billy shook his head.

“Language, son.”

Billy didn’t even look at him, just fixed his glare on Stu Macher’s bright smile. “Don’t you have a game to get back to, Hank?”

Hank shifted uncomfortably, muttering something under his breath before saying a quick goodbye to Stu, who reciprocated with a perfectly polite, “Great to meet you, sir.”

When Hank was gone, Billy slipped out the door, closing it behind him sharply. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m here to pick you up?” Stu’s smile remained firm as he gestured back towards the curb to his car. “I said seven, didn’t I? Mini-golf.”

Then Billy remembered their bet. Caught off guard by Stu, Billy felt his heart swell. The level of cruelty in his answering sneer was just as harsh as Stu’s smile was joyous, “Whatever, I’m not changing.”

He was wearing black socks, a pair old sweats that was riddled with moth holes, an even older Nine Inch Nails crop shirt that exposed his midriff and the top of his briefs’ waistband, and a headband that kept his fringe out of his eyes which was always ten times more annoying after a shower.

Stu licked his lips eyeing the happy trail on Billy’s lower abdomen. “Done.”

“Wait here, jackass.”

He slammed the door back in Stu’s stupid smiling face with a scowl. Kicked on his sneakers, grabbed his wallet, and jogged over to the kitchen to stash the rest of his Bites in the fridge.

“When do you think you’ll be back?” Hank questioned from the living room couch as Billy passed in front of him. The temper-minded teen ignored him, his blood boiled under his skin when this didn’t discourage Hank’s following, “Have a great time!” Before the front door slammed again.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

“I’m having a party Friday,” Stu was twirling around on the office chair in his room, at his work desk. Billy was lounging on his bed, actually busy with homework. “After the homecoming dance, you should come.”

“I know.” Billy didn’t look up from writing. “I think I’ve heard about it from everyone except for you at this point.”

“Yes!” Stu celebrated. “Word of mouth is so much better than telling a bunch of people myself. You know I only personally told three people about my party? I wanted to see how much traction it would pick up. Apparently a lot.”

“Your parties are always talked about.” Billy was trying to find a way to get his point across in his answer that wasn’t a one for one copy of the example sentence. “I’ve been hearing about them since forever.”

“And you’ve never come by?”

Stu finally stopped spinning, Billy could feel those eyes on him again. He refused to start squirming like an ant under a sunbeam. He stayed perfectly still.

“Sure I have, every once in a while.”

Stu’s brows were drawn, “No you haven’t, I know you haven’t. You’ve never been to one of my parties.”

“What makes you so sure?” Billy looked up at Stu. “You keep attendance or something? Its a wild party.”

“Just— I-I would have known.” Stu pouted. He spun one last revolution before standing up and stretching.

He moved towards the bed where he’d first chucked his backpack and went digging around. Billy returned to his work with a furrow set in his brow.

After a few moments, Billy sat up with a long, satisfying stretch. His muscles sang with the pressure, it felt great.

Stu whipped around, “Done?”

“Yeah, finally.”

“Sweet! I’ll set up Changeling."

Billy nodded, though Stu was at his VHS collection and couldn’t see him. He waited till the movie was in, to toss something at Billy as he crossed the room to kill the lights.

After a few moments, Billy’s jerking back from the thing Stu tossed in his face. It landed over his textbook. It was a patch. A new one he’d never seen before, yet he was certain he never made. It was in a lumpy sort of square shape, and it was forest green.

Billy examined it, “Ace Stilinski.”

“Keep it.”

“But I didn’t fight him, you did.” Billy offered it back and Stu just stared at him.

“I did it for you, and if I hadn’t stepped in, you would have fought him. And won. So,” Stu waved his offer away, “keep it.”

Billy gave a crooked smile. “You just bought yourself free weed for life.” He chuckled.

“What?” Stu’s nose wrinkled but he was still smiling.

“I’ll show you later.” Billy promised. In the meantime, he pulled up his bag to put the patch away so he could properly attach it later, and pulled out a fat stack of papers stapled together. “Here.”

Stu snatched it up. “Whats this?” He briefly flitted through the pages. “Another test? Oh, this is the Chemistry one. One-point-seven A, right? I thought we sold out?”

“We did, that one’s not for sale. It’s for you.”

Stu blinked over at Billy, “What? But...you said ‘no skimming’. You said I couldn’t skim—no skimming.”

“And I changed my mind.” He couldn’t fight the smile. Total surprise looked funny on Stu’s face. “Would you like me to change it back?”

“No way,” Stu clutched the test close to his chest. “Oh man, I seriously think you just saved my grade, dude.”

“Don’t mention it.”

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

“Take it easy, baby,” Stu said calmly. He swiped his hand through Billy’s hair, accidentally running into that headband again, before he kissed the open mouth below him. “We got all the time we want.”

Billy ripped the band out of his hair and tossed it the fuck out of their vicinity. “Don’t call me that shit when your tongue’s down my—” Stu kissed his demands quiet. Billy gave a small moan pulled from the back of his throat when that body rolled over his.

“You’ve got too many worries, baby. I can call you what I want, when you’re in my bed.” Long fingers sifted through Billy’s hair from behind, yanking his head back in a hard grip.

Yes, yes, yes. “Fucker.” Billy hissed.

“Let’s get you wearing much less clothes, huh?” He bit Billy’s exposed throat, before pushing up and off.

Stu sat back to pull his own shirt over his head, before moving to help Billy out of his sweats. Billy shoved him off and did it himself and suddenly they were both just in their underwear. They stared at each other, breathing harshly for a moment.

“Feeling good there, Mr. President?” Stu smirked, pointedly looking at Billy’s erection.

Billy scowled at him, “pot calling the kettle, asshole.”

“You wanna help me?” Stu stood from the bed and stepped totally in front of Billy, the tent in his boxers was bulging, he was completely unashamed.

Billy shook his head, his own nervous hands were at the waistband of the boxers he was wearing. “Do it yourself.”

They watched each other carefully as they each rid themselves of their last layer. Billy gave a nervous swallow when he looked at Stu’s cock for the first time. “Are you sure that’s gonna fit?”

Stu chuckled as he looked down at Billy. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Billy wasn’t really listening. He just knew he wanted to try something before they really started. “Sit down Stu.” He rose from the bed himself.

Stu smile melted as he slowly as he replaced Billy, taking his previous seat. “All good, baby?”

“Shut up,” Billy stepped in close. Going in between Stu’s open knees. Stu stared at his erection as those hands made gentle contact over Billy’s naked body. Billy got on his knees. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh,” now Stu was the one to swallow down his nerves. “Me neither.”

“Can I?”

Stu sucked in a sharp breath, “Hell fucking yeah,” he leaned back on one arm and spread his legs, “go for it.”

Billy scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Pig.” He went to dive in but froze, he glared up at Stu demanding, “don’t fuck my face, and if I pull away, fucking deal with it.”

Stu couldn’t nod fast enough. “Whatever you say, baby.”

“Dumbass.”

Billy leaned down, looking at Stu’s penis curiously wondering where to start, before thinking back to his own fantasies. How did he imagine Stu doing this to him?

He grabbed Stu’s cock and started pumping slowly, before leaning down to rest the tip in his mouth. He kept his hand moving, sucking over just the tip as he got used to it.

All around him Stu shuddered, a groan pulled from his throat as he placed a gentle hand on the back of Billy’s head.

The size of it surprised Billy. All in all, as much as Billy didn’t think this thing could fit inside him, it still looked doable blow-job wise. But now that it was actually in Billy’s mouth it was fucking huge, and heavy, much heavier than he was expecting. The weight of it pressed his tongue down flat. He rolled under it as he went further down, sucking more in before pulling back, and trying again.

“Ah, fuck,” Stu grunted with a sharp breath. “K-keep it up, baby, fuck.”

Billy couldn’t really believe he was here, with Stu’s hands in his hair moaning over him, while he was sucking his dick. He’d always dreamed of this, though in his fantasies Stu was much rougher with him.

Billy moaned and took it deeper, gagging a little when he pushed too far.

Stu’s own groans were amping up, his hands were moving, petting through Billy’s hair. His hips accidentally hitched up, bucking into Billy’s mouth.

Billy gagged, and breathed, pulling back a little to keep the tip of Stu’s dick away from his throat. And he realized his dilemma, he couldn’t fit all of Stu’s dick just in his mouth, if he wanted to give a real blow job, he’d have to take it down his throat. But so far even the tip couldn’t go near him without him gagging. So he either had to dive all the way in or stop now.

Billy pulled off Stu’s dick with a gasp. “Scoot over, I’m coming up.” He moved to climb beside Stu on the bed.

“What?” Stu looked like he was trying not to look so disappointed, even as he moved over to make room for Billy to sit. “You’re stopping?”

“Yeah, for now, let's get this show on the road.”

“Alright,” Stu reluctantly nodded. “Lay back.”

Billy found himself two pillows, one he placed under his back, and the other for his head. As he got comfortable, Stu rooted around his night stand pulling out lube.

By the time Billy was looking back up at him, Stu was rubbing clear lube between his fingers. He scooted close and guided Billy’s thighs to rest over his own.

“You ever done this before?” Stu was giving Billy an odd look. Hungry, and waiting, and almost like he already knew the answer.

Billy shook his head, his ears heating up, “No.”

Stu smiled, utterly pleased. “Alright, I’ll go slow. Or as slow as I can, baby, I tend to get carried away.”

A thrill ran through Billy. Maybe Stu would be getting rough with him. “That’s fine, just get on with it.”

“Impatient,” Stu snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ll show you a good time, Loomis.”

Stu made sure to go nice and slow for Billy’s sake in the beginning. The first two fingers were a cake walk, and Billy had fingered himself plenty of times before, so he knew what to expect.

But by the time Stu had three fingers in, he’d found Billy’s prostate.

Billy jerked with a gasp, followed by a loud moan. “Oh fuck!”

“There we are,” Stu chuckled. He wiggled his incredibly long fingers, stroking it without mercy.

“Fuck!” Billy squirmed and grit his teeth against his moans. Hurried hands went to pump his weeping cock.

Stu pulled out his fingers watching Billy.

“Wha—” Billy swallowed thickly. “What the fuck are you doing? Did I say you could stop?”

“Did I say you could start?” Stu’s grin spread.

Billy didn’t know what the fuck he was on, but he needed those fingers shoved up his ass immediately. “What?” He barked.

Stu cackled and shot forward. He roughly pulled Billy’s hands away from his dick, slamming them to the mattress. He hovered over Billy, smiling like a maniac as he moved both wrists over head. He crossed them one over the other and pinned them down with one hand.

Billy struggled to pull his hands free, “Stu what the fuck—” he was almost there, too, before Stu grasped his dick too harshly, twisting as he pulled.

Billy cried out and moaned. Was he dreaming? He relaxed his arms and bucked his hips. Fuck, it hurt. But it felt so right.

“That’s better, huh baby?”

“Mm, fuck you.”

“We’re getting there.” Stu snickered. Then his thumb was rubbing over Billy’s slick hole, “in fact, I think you’re just shy of ready."

He slicked up his dick with more lube, even spreading more over Billy’s hole before lining up.

Billy took two deep breaths, relaxing his whole body as best as he could before he felt the tip popping in.

“Oh fuck,” Billy gasped, “shit.” He opened his legs more as Stu pushed in. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re too…!”

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” Stu encouraged through his own moans, “Oh holy fuck, holy fuck, you feel better than pussy!”

Slowly but surely Stu went all the way in, not stopping till his balls met Billy’s ass. They both moaned at the feel of it, going a little more crazy.

After several huffs of breath Stu pulled his hands away to hold Billy’s hips as he experimentally grinded up, evoking a startled moan from Billy and himself.

“Fuck that feels…” he couldn’t finish.

Billy only nodded. “Yeah.”

“Before we continue, baby, I just gotta do one thing,” he reached up and over Billy, who hissed when Stu’s movement triggered his sensitive body, into his nightstand drawer once again.

When Stu sat back he was holding something. A colorful printed paper. He held it over Billy allowing the boy to see.

It was a map of the corn maze showing the path out.

“Yearbook committee exclusive.”

Brown eyes widened, he couldn’t believe it. “You motherfucking cheat—” Billy was cut off as Stu tossed the map and started pumping his hips.

Billy moaned as he squirmed. Kicking up his legs and arms around Stu, trying to hit him, stop him, punish him some way for tricking him.

“Fucking bastard,” Billy moaned, “I hate you! Fuck!”

Through Billy’s abuse, Stu fucked him unaffected. He was kicked, slapped, scratched at, insulted, he just pounded Billy harder.

Finally Stu got him by the neck, still smiling, cutting off his air and killing his fight. Billy’s dick jumped as he struggled to breathe.

“Yes, fuck, Stu…” he choked. His legs fell open and his hands went to hold Stu’s wrist.

His eyes rolled as the oxygen left his brain. He rode out Stu's abuse, occasionally dealing his own, well into the night.

✄–––––––—–––––

By their third go around, he was sure he might be dangerously addicted to Stu's cock. Enough wasn't enough, he wanted to feel it more, he wanted to taste it again.

“Ah, fuck,” Stu grunted right at Billy’s shoulder.

Billy himself was fighting back moans. Stu was pressing him to the mattress at the back of his neck, his lashes dragged against the sheets if he even blinked. He could hardly breathe, it was glorious.

Billy’s knees were aching being in this position so long, but he wouldn’t flip over, the pain felt too good. Stu felt too good. His cock was enormous, felt like he was splitting Billy in half, going harder and deeper than Billy’s fingers ever have.

Billy spread his thighs and arched his back, it sung with stinging delight. Stu had used his nails this time, scratching blood trails all over his body. His eyes rolled when Stu adjusted with him and starting hitting that spot perfectly.

“Fuck,” came Stu’s panting breaths. “Fuck baby, I’m-I’m gonna cum. Gonna…cum.”

“D-don’t,” Billy bit his lip and tried not to moan like a whore. His legs were totally fucking numb, “don’t cum inside. I’ll fucking gut you,” his last word kind if melted into the mattress as Stu picked up his pace.

“Feel good, baby?” Stu grunted.

Billy’s fingers flexed and curled by his face. He said nothing, but it felt like heaven, ecstasy. Billy was seeing stars in his vision.

Stu finally relinquished his grip on Billy’s neck, and he gasped long and loud. His whole body seized up.

“Oh fuck!” Stu groaned as his climax finally hit.

Billy would never admit the sound he made when he felt Stu cum inside him. He followed immediately after.

Stu stayed in for a moment too long, milking the both of them for what they were worth before collapsing beside Billy with a huff.

“We’re getting so good at that,” Stu praised with a dopey smile as he panted. “I think that was our best round yet.”

Billy said nothing. He didn’t move at all, he couldn’t, only taking greedy, free breaths as his body adjusted. Stu seemed to take that as encouragement, and wrapped his sweaty body around Billy’s with a hum.

Billy voiced his complaints, even trying to pull away but Stu won this particular fight. Billy just sighed when he felt Stu’s lips kissing lazily over his neck. He didn’t know where he got the energy, but found that Stu could go a whole other round while Billy was still recovering. It was insane.

As time advanced without them, and Billy regained consciousness and sense of being, when he could actually feel his toes again, he immediately started hitting Stu. Like a cat in a bag, he was wild.

“I told you not to inject me with your filth and you didn’t listen!” He hissed.

“Baby, baby, how can you—” to Stu’s credit he didn’t really try to stop Billy. Just kind of let him, “ah! How can you say that? It’s-it’s my love! Ah!”

“Well your 'love' is slowly secreting out of my ass and it feels disgusting,” Billy hissed.

Stu wrinkled his nose, “why in the fuck would you put it that way? That's so unsexy.”

“Cause that's how it is!” Billy smacked him some more, throwing kicks in, too, “I fucking told you not to you horny fucking bastard!”

“Okay, okay–ah! Okay, baby. You’re right I’m sorry! I’m dirty rotten–ouch! Scum. I'm the worst.” Stu self-reprimanded. “Let me make it up to you! Lets shower, I’ll help you. Let’s clean up.”

“Hell no, Macher!” Billy seethed. “I’m showering here. You’re showering in the guest room down the hall, far away from me.”

Stu pouted, “oh please don’t make me do that.” He wrapped his arms around Billy's waist and started kissing his sweat cooled skin again. “I promise I won’t cum inside you again, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry.” Billy scoffed. He shoved Stu off of him and climbed out of bed. “If you follow me in, I’m not coming to your party. And you won’t get to fuck me for a month.”

Billy didn’t stay for Stu to protest. He slammed the bathroom door behind him.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

By the time Billy exited the bathroom, Stu was gone. Good riddance.

He poked around their haphazard clothes and dressed in his boxers. He went to pick up his shirt too, when he paused. He looked to his left. Stu’s closet was just…open. He could…find the shirt.

Billy stood staring at the open closet door.

He glanced at Stu’s bedroom door. A poster of the original Phantom Carriage greeted him. The whole house was silent.

Billy was sliding shirts before he could really tell himself how much of a bad idea this was. Dozens of short sleeve button ups, which was really unsurprising, Billy’s heartbeat up-ticked when he found the graphic tee’s. Woah. Considering how little Stu ever wore to school there was a lot more than he was expecting, all scary movie themed. Several hanging, others folded on shelves, others rolled up in cubbies. Finally digging through the storage boxes tucked away in the very back corner did Billy find Prom Night. It looked exactly like his shirt, but this was XXL.

He pulled it out to put it on. Stu’s actual shirt, he was really gonna wear it.

Except.

It was…wrapped around something.

What?

It felt hard, it was square-shaped like a box. He pulled the shirt off whatever it was blanketing and revealed a thick black book labeled My Future Wife. What the fuck?

Billy would deny the flicker of jealousy that rocked through him to his grave.

He snatched the book and opened it instantly, scowling.

Only for his glare to break in the next second.

It was a photo album, full of photos—of Billy.

Billy walking in the halls at school, or laughing with a random group of kids, or sitting alone at a table working, or walking down a nondescript sidewalk. Holy fuck. Even playing rugby, that was two years ago. Every now and then he’d run into a white divider, each one had a year on it, going all the way back to the seventh grade. Just hundreds and hundreds of photos of Billy.

This book was full.

Billy was flipping through pages faster than his mind could comprehend what he was seeing. He gasped coming up on a familiar photo, of course… on some level all of the photos were familiar, but this one was in the way that Billy recognized it, because he’d actually seen it before. It was the photo of him, Zach, and Miles out on the courts. Billy’s switch blade was pressed against his bottom lip.

Anger flared all through Billy’s body. He knew that fucker didn’t give him the only copy.

This particular picture was incredibly recent. Logically, that meant Billy must be getting to the end. Only there was still a huge chunk left, with a whole other divider. This one was different from all the rest. It was black, and had no year on it. Just an ‘xxx’ that made the blood in Billy’s veins go cold. There’s no way…

He turned the page.

His face flushed, he could feel it but he couldn’t imagine the expression he was making.

It was him, like all the others. The photo was something taken through his own goddamn bedroom window. His curtains were parted just perfectly enough to see him, stretched out on his bed. He was totally naked.

He had one hand pressed over his mouth, his brows were drawn up in an intimate face of pleasure. His other hand was between his legs. Because he was propping a leg up on his bed, it was impossible to actually see what he was doing, but it wasn’t hard to guess.

Dozens of photos populated this section of the book. Billy in various compromising positions pleasuring himself. He couldn’t believe what he looked like. There was a particularly embarrassing one where his tongue was lolling out of his mouth, there was a line of drool pooling from it to the bed, and his fingers were buried in his ass. He didn’t know his whole face flushed red when he did that but it was clear on the photo.

Billy found the first day he ever tried fingering himself. There was so much cum on his sheets, over his body.

The final photo set was from just a few days ago. He saw himself spraying Blonde by Versace on his Prom Night shirt. He saw that he was pleasuring himself with the shirt pressed against his nose. He saw himself cumming as he wore the shirt, legs fallen open for the perfect view it’s almost like he was posing for it. He’d pushed the curtains open that night to close his window, it couldn’t have been better if it had actually been planned.

Billy dropped the shirt.

He went out to the room with the book.

Still empty.

He dressed himself in the dark and silently gathered his stuff. Everything except for a razor blade necklace with a heart carved out of the middle. That he left on Stu’s desk.

Down the hall, he could still hear the shower running. Stu was singing.

Billy left the Macher house without another word. There was a photo book in his bag he was going to fucking burn.

Chapter Text

Billy sat quietly smoking, mind calm. He was lounging on the empty bleacher bench alone with his lunch. The chill in air bit at his exposed arms, his flannel was tossed over his bag in the foot raise behind him. Despite the sun’s best effort on such a clean and clear afternoon, the whirring winds carrying October’s icy delight undercut any heat that would be beating down on the teen were it a few months earlier.

Billy felt the natural red tipping his ears and nose. The world was tilting into his kind of weather. His body always ran hot, he fucking hated the sweltering summer heat. But fall? Even later, into winter? He thrived.

He couldn’t really see the smoke he blew from his lips, the wind swept it sideways too quickly, but if he sacrificed that for the 50 degrees fahrenheit, then he was fine with it. Fair trade. 

He played with a small silver lighter in his hand as he thought.

He just liked to hear click open and shut again.

Next to him on the bench lay his empty lunch bag, in front of him, where he rested his feet, sat a can of kerosene. It was an unlabeled, box-ish gray can with rounded edges and a plastic pop cap.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Greeted the voice of the very person Billy had been waiting for.

Show time.

Billy pulled another drag and looked over at Stu. He was coming up from behind the bleachers. Probably came straight here from the parking lot. “You’re the only one who could.”

“Why make it so easy for me?”

Brown eyes looked down at blue. “Maybe I’m the one looking for you.”

Stu snorted. “Oh yeah?”

“Maybe I knew it'd be easier to let you come to me.”

“Says the one who skipped out on me last nigh—”

“That’s close enough.” Billy stopped Stu from joining him when the boy had just put a foot up on the lowest bleacher.

Stu stared up at him. His smile was firm but there were a million questions dancing in those eyes. “Alright,” he backed off, arms up, “I give. What’s this all about?”

“I’ve got a decision to make, Stu. For both of us.” Billy divulged as he sat up.

Leaving his cigarette in his mouth, he reached down and plucked up the can of kerosene and set it down next to him.

Stu watched quietly from the ground.

Billy set down his lighter next to it and pulled the photo album out of his backpack. He held it up for Stu to see. “A decision that this little book is gonna help us with.” He smiled sweetly.

A sick, cruel pleasure curled in Billy’s stomach as he watched all the color drain from Stu’s face. He’d never seen anyone on earth achieve what Billy just did. Wiping that dumbass smile out of existence.

Blue eyes widened in horror. He took a half step up, on auto-pilot, before stopping himself. Billy watched the questions fly through that boy’s head. Where’d you get… How’d you know… the excuses, That’s not what you think… Let me explain… but they both knew it’d be useless. Billy could actually see the fight die on his tongue.

Stu swallowed. Wide eyes looked from it, to Billy’s smiling face, to the can and lighter next to him. A look of fear struck those eyes.

Satisfaction thrummed through Billy’s blood.

“What decision?”

“How much it's gonna break you to watch me burn this disgusting thing.” Billy hissed.

Stu panicked. “No don’t! No!” He stepped up again, only to again be stopped short with a gasp. 

“Ah, ah,” Billy tsked and popped open the can. He tossed the book on the bench in front of him and held the open can out over it. “Not. Another. Step.”

“Billy, alright p-please, I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry. I’m the biggest perv in history. I’ve been in love with you forever, please. Th-that took years to make! Fucking years! Those photos… they’re–they’re irreplaceable please.”

“Mm,” Billy smirked. “I like you begging, do it again.”

“Please don’t burn it!” Stu instantly indulged. “I’ll— I’ll do anything. You—what, you wanna cut me? I’ll let you cut me. You wanna fuck me? I can do that! Let’s just—let’s just talk this through.”

Billy quirked his brow, “I can cut you?”

“Yes! Yes, do it now! Whatever you want,” Stu promised.

“What if I took my blade and stabbed you?” Billy set the can down beside the book. “I want your legs. I want to poke holes all over my new toy. Watch you cry and bleed.”

“I’ll be your fucking pin cushion Billy, whatever!”

“What about burning?” Billy licked his lips. “I wanna take a lighter and run it over your skin. I wanna see it blister and pop.”

Stu shivered where he stood. “Y-yes, yes, you c-can… do that.”

“How about I brand you like a cow?” Billy chuckled. “Put BL on your ass.”

“I’ll even beg you for it.”

“Such pretty promises,” Billy greatly approved. “What a good dog.”

“Billy, please.” Stu took one deliberate step forward. “Please.”

Billy’s cruel smirk deepened. Fuck he was getting hard. His biggest crush was actually begging him, from real fear! Stu couldn’t look more terrified, it was getting him a little light headed.

“Nah.” He grabbed the can and poured it over the little black book.

“No! No! Billy, wait, please!” He was outstretching his arms, “Wait, wait, okay! That’s enough, please, that’ll already ruin them! Fuck! They’re alre—I can’t lose them, please!”

Billy set the can down with a hard thunk! to make a point. It worked, Stu jumped.

Billy smiled over his cigarette, he flicked his lighter and held the flame up, “On your knees, baby.”

Stu went down, scrambling to follow the order fast enough.

“Good boy,” Billy mocked. He kissed the air like he was compelling a dog.

“God Billy!” Stu cried out. “What more do you want from me?!”

“Just want one thing,” Billy promised. “Say yes.”

Stu blinked up at him. “What?”

“Will you be my date to Homecoming?”

“What?!”

Billy sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s not a yes.”

“No, no, no! Wait, wait! Yes! YES I’LL BE YOUR DATE TO HOMECOMING.”

Billy stopped. “Really?”

“Fucking YES! How many times—I will do anything, Billy!”

“Cause that’s…” Billy smiled softly, “the only thing I really want, more than the other stuff. I was mostly just messing with you. But I really wanna go to Homecoming with you.”

Stu nodded. “I’ll do it.”

Billy clicked the lighter shut. “You’ll pick me up?”

“You pick the time.”

“Eat before?”

“I’ll pay.”

“Tux?”

Stu grimaced. “Yep.”

“I get to fuck you after?”

“You can use my condoms.”

Billy snickered. “This is the best.” He was gonna get hell of a jerk session later. Probably for weeks. “Thank you, Stu.”

Stu burned his glare into Billy’s giddy eyes of delight and the world was backwards. Down was up, in was out. “You’re welcome.”

“Still not as good as this is gonna be.” Billy pulled one last drag out of his cigarette and tossed it on the book.

Woosh! The little thing went up in a fireball before their eyes.

Billy cackled, throwing his head back when Stu screamed. The flames danced over it, they both watched it crinkle and deform under the licking heat.

Billy laughed a good while, letting his delight dance around the mini-fire, before sighing. He took his time, gathered his stuff, and finally stood, walking down to the grass where Stu wailed, “it’s gone, it’s all gone,” still on his knees.

Billy threw away his lunch, dusting his hands as he approached the broken boy. He reached down and turned Stu’s face to look up at him, a face that was seemingly permanently wrenched in despair.

Holy motherfucking shitballs. He was right all this time. “You look beautiful when you cry.” Billy whispered. Wiping an unshed tear from the corner of Stu’s weepy eye. “You’re my boyfriend now. So you have to take me to Homecoming anyway.”

Stu wordlessly looked back at the burning book above him.

Thoroughly satisfied, Billy walked back to the school with a smile.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

“Aww, don’t be sad,” Billy smiled, “I’ll remind you that you’re a sick fucking pervert who doesn’t deserve that photo album or me at all. Big cry baby.” He patted Stu’s back.

Stu was buried in the crook of his shoulder, whining into his neck.

They were camping outside a building simply referred to by everyone as The Hole. It was small, destitute, and located directly behind the school. The Hole held the school’s disciplinary rooms.

It hosted (by order of severity): detention - kinda lame, ISS - alright, a little hairy but ultimately okay, and Vice Principal Fuckhead’s pride and joy; ADC - the worst of the worst. Only the bad, bad kids got sent here, and everyone knew a ticket to ADC wasn’t just a day or two like detention, not even a week or two like ISS, no. Any kid sent to ADC might as well change their address and zip code, cause they were rotting in that hell forever.

Being busted for drugs usually meant one of two things: 

A. The school kicked you out on the spot, no questions asked—Even for weed! Which was essentially harmless…

Or

B. You got eight entire weeks of ADC.

Well Corny Carter Lorney (the best dealer in school) was white; so he got the eight weeks.

“You don’t have any idea what it meant to me.”

A thrill ran through Billy. It was disgusting. The book was invasive, alarming, disturbing, and Stu made it all for Billy, to have him in secret. This whole time Billy thought it was just him.

Stu whined further, only calming when Billy rubbed his back, just like a giant fucking baby.

Billy was entirely unfamiliar with the feeling of remorse. Even its lesser cousin, regret, was totally foreign to him. So when he got that uncomfortable feeling picking at his heart strings, he had no idea what was going on. 

Class president Billy Loomis understood a total of three things when it came to his own regret: He didn’t like it, feeling it was pissing him off, and it was all Stu’s fault. 

Billy sighed in deep annoyance. “What if I still let you photograph me from now on?”

“Really?” Stu lifted his mopey pout from Billy’s neck, “you don’t think I’m a skeevy perv for taking your picture like that?”

“Oh you’re a fucking perv alright,” Billy assured, “I’m saying I’ll let you take pictures of me regardless, because I’m the best thing in your life.”

Stu looked like he was drinking Billy’s words right out of the palm of Billy’s hands. “And I don’t have to tell you when I'm taking them, right?”

Billy grit his teeth. He was getting really irritated with Stu’s pathetic little whining. “No, you don’t have to tell me when you’re taking them. If I don’t see you, that’s on me.”

Stu gave a laugh and hugged Billy tight. “Deal.”

“But!” Billy kept his arms away from Stu as he was being squeezed, his entire body tingled where Stu’s made contact. It was like he was glowing, it was all too much, “tell me about them. Once you’ve gathered enough just take a day and tell me about them. What you liked about the setting, why you took it, talk to me.”

Stu stood back to full height and stared down at Billy a little slack jawed. Like he was in awe. “Okay, yeah. I can do that.”

Just then the ADC door slammed open and a gravelly, shouting voice emerged from it. “Alright worthless punks, you know the drill, fall in!”

Stu and Billy straightened out, watching as nine delinquents walked one by one out the door as the barking voice called out a last name. They all stood in a row, and they were all wearing the same dull gray jumpsuit. 

Like the beloved professional baseball that Woodsboro High’s staff regularly bet on, the schools own team had something of a set of hand signals. A series of signs that coaches would give to players during games, to silently communicate coded strategies that any given player would execute to try and score or prevent the opponent from scoring.

Corny Carter Lorney had taken cue’s from this aspect of America’s favorite pastime, and come up with his own sign language. Any potential customers could speak to him silently and over a distance, even in the presence of teachers, to avoid detection when risky deals were being made. The only catch was he didn’t teach anyone the language himself, it all went from person to person and you had to get it right or there’d be no deal.

Well ADC kids got picked up and were sent home on their own bus, and they stayed in the Hole all day, in order to completely cut off their access to the outside world. The only time ADC kids saw the inside of Woodsboro High walls was for lunch. ADC lunch was set thirty minutes before everyone else’s, and everyday, the kids lined up, walked in a quiet, single file line to the cafeteria, got their lunch, and were marched right back to the Hole to enjoy their spoils.

That meant Billy and Stu had about a forty-five second window to set up a meeting with Corny. Stu knew Corny’s code better than Billy, but they would both try to get their message out equally.

When they heard the shouting voice of the harsh ADC warden bark out, “Carter Lorne! Fall in!” they pushed away from the wall.

Stu actually stepped up further than Billy.

And then Corny was walking out. Like all the other ADC kids, he spotted Billy and Stu instantly, but instead of immediately looking away like the rest, Stu’s signing hands kept those eyes on them.

Stu signed the time and place, Billy signaled the product type, quantity, and price.

Corny smirked, as his eyes lit up watching the two. Eager hands signed back negotiating a higher price, as he walked to his place in line.

Stu agreed to the price and their deal was struck.

They each acknowledged their accord with nods before Stu and Billy ducked out. They’d both get marked for skipping class but if it meant a chance at free weed for life from Corny Carter Lorney it was fucking worth it.

Chapter Text

“I…” Stu took small steps in revolution, blue eyes taking everything in. “Don’t think I get it.”

His voice bounced and echoed in the school’s gym. Which was day by day, slowly becoming more and more decorated for Homecoming. Today was Thursday, a particularly stressful day for the Homecoming committee. Those on it who gave a fuck, anyway. Billy, as class president, wasn't really on the committee more like a non-committal overseer. He’d stop by every now and then and check their progress. Nancy Thompson, third year cheerleader and head of said committee, was surely ripping her own hair out at the state of the gym right now.

If Billy ever had a foil for the level of fuck’s given, it’d be in Nancy. Unfortunately for her, the other members of her committee weren't as enthusiastic about making everything a magical night for all. Today after school was the last opportunity for them to finish up everything and by the state of things, there was a lot left to do.

“It’s supposed to be an Enchanted Forest,” Billy noted, “fairy lights and nature or something.”

“Oh.” Stu blinked and kept looking around. “It looks like shit.”

“Yeah.”

Funny thing Billy was just now realizing completely against his will. Not funny to him at all, but objectively, pretty funny. He found himself caring a lot more about the shitty fucking state of things today more than any other inspection day. It was like he could finally see how totally lame everything looked, and it actually bothered him now. For some reason. 

Billy snuck a glance to Stu who was kicking around one of the stars that would later be hanging from the gym rafters.

It was probably because today was the last day they really had to decorate. Deadline’s and all, no one liked them. No other reason.

“Come on, lets get the fuck out of here.”

Only when Billy passed by, Stu stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait.”

Billy froze.

Stu didn’t pull him back, they both held still.

All Billy could see in his mind's eye were the decorations surrounding the two of them. The two of them and no one else.

There were tree arches made of endless reams of crushed construction paper, the walls were draped in sheer curtains of mostly dark greens, with some complimentary ivory and pink. There were lanterns with intricate swirls painted on that were placed at the center of each table. At their feet lay fifty some-odd sparkling stars, ready to be hung. Across the refreshment table lay hundreds of flowers waiting to be arranged into beautiful bouquets.

Suspended directly above their heads was the disco ball.

“You ever been to one of these before?”

Still, neither boy moved. Stu’s hand was on Billy's shoulder, and they were frozen three paces apart.

Billy clenched his teeth, but he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t anything. He swallowed hard and nodded his head.

“Ever slow danced?”

Again, Billy nodded.

“Any good?”

Billy shook his head.

“Maybe we should practice,” Stu suggested, his voice was uncharacteristically low. “Don’t wanna look like dopes tomorrow night.”

“Stu—”

"You’re gonna be crowned king. You and your queen are gonna have all eyes on you during your slow dance.”

Billy whipped around, shoving Stu’s arm off his shoulder. “Don’t.” Just the thought of it made his blood sing. He and Stu—Stu was asking him to—Jesus. Billy couldn’t think, his fingers were trembling.

After a beat, Stu chuckled and took Billy’s free hand in his. He then placed a hand on Billy’s hip and yanked hard, pulling him close.

Billy stumbled. His body fell against Stu’s. He got a better grip on Stu’s shoulder, “Hey!”

“Now this is the easy part,” Stu smiled, “And not to brag or anything but you’re the perfect height for me. Taller than all the girls I’ve danced with.”

“Stu.” Billy shook his head and tried to pull out. Stu squeezed him tighter, held him close. “I can’t dance.”

“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about, just follow my lead.”

Billy looked up at his partner. “I don’t know what that means.” Stu took a step back that Billy wasn’t prepared for, his sneakers squeaked along the gym floor. “I can’t! I can’t dance.”

“Then what’s your plan for tonight?” Stu questioned. “You’re gonna have to dance either way, so if you wanna leave now, fine.” He took a second to pause, smiling down at him knowingly, “Or, you can let me show you the basics.”

Billy stood angrily, brooding as he thought his options over. Ultimately, Stu was right. He was going to have to dance either way. And in front of the whole student body.

“Fine.”

“Okay, first things first, you’re too pissy,” Stu chuckled, “you can’t learn how to dance when you’re angry. It’s like one of the laws of physics probably.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Loosen. Up.”

So Billy sighed. First because he was annoyed, second because he was just a little embarrassed, and finally he took a deep, deep breath and decided to give Stu’s advice a fair shot. It’s not like he had a choice. He could either somehow learn to dance right here and now, or be completely fucked tomorrow night.

“Okay, there we go.” Stu smirked.

“Shut up.”

“Ah, ah, don’t work yourself up again, you just mellowed out.” Billy opened his mouth to retort but Stu loudly interrupted him. “Next! We get into position,” their hands were already where they were supposed to be, “of course, you can do the two hands on waist/two hands on shoulders method, but if you take her hand like I did with you, then you’re in control,” he swept that arm through the air, pulling Billy along, then pushed the hand forward and Billy went too, having no choice, “see? And with my other hand on your waist over here, I’m giving you enough support to guide you through the next step.”

“Okay,” Billy nodded, noting the squeeze at his waist, seemed straight forward. “What now?”

“Fix your legs, they’re dead weight, I might as well be dancing with a doll full of sand,” Stu snickered.

“Newsflash, asshole,” Billy scowled up at Stu, “You can’t just say ‘do it right’ and I’ll magically know what I’m doing wrong! What do you mean ‘fix your legs’ I’m just standing normally.”

“But we’re not in this position to stand around,” Stu pointed out, “we’re here to dance, so you have to be ready to move. Try to stand only on the balls of your feet, put your weight in your thighs and calves.”

“Okay?” Billy raised up on his toes, “like this?”

“Yeah, good,” Stu nodded with a bright smile, “only not so tall. It looks ridiculous if you’re standing all the way up on your toes. Just hover a little off the floor, make it barely noticable.”

“You’re just jealous I get taller than you when I stand like that,” Billy grumped while sinking back down.

“Keep dreamin’ baby,” Stu smiled, “Anyway it’s less strain on your calves this way, and you don’t get tired so quickly.”

“Fine.”

“There! That’s perfect. Now, dancing is like… like improv with your body, there is structure but how you and your partner move is unique to the two of you…” Billy tried to focus on whatever the fuck Stu was talking about, but it’s like he could feel his eyes glazing over. Stu must’ve noticed, because he tsked quietly, “it’s actually a lot like fighting.”

Billy blinked. “How?”

“Because you don’t know what’s happening next,” Stu took a step back, Billy snapped to follow him, “so you have to be ready for anything.”

He sidestepped and Billy looked at their feet, following. As Stu moved, Billy caught up. Ready for the next step and the next. He had to admit, he was grateful for Stu’s hands holding him. It was the perfect amount of support he needed to move without being too rigid.

“There’s two really important rules to remember when dancing,” Stu pulled Billy through another step, going slow so the president wasn’t tripping up, “be poised—or ready—to move at all times, and always flow with your partner as much as you can.”

“So dancing is just anticipation? Of the next thing?” Billy questioned.

“Yeah pretty much,” Stu confirmed. “So when I say follow,” he pulled back again, “my lead. What I mean is ‘when I step; you step’ like this.”

Billy nodded again, looking at their legs, following along. “When I step, you step.” He muttered to himself.

Fuck.

He felt like he was actually, sort of, maybe getting the hang of this.

“When I step, you step.”

“Good, yes,” Stu nodded, “That’s great, you’re doing it!”

Billy kept himself ready for wherever Stu was gonna take him next. Watching, following, sometimes even anticipating where he was gonna go next and moving with Stu instead of after him.

“Now, how compatible two people are entirely depends on chemistry. Most dances, like the waltz, have strict steps to follow, because any two people won’t know their dance chemistry with each other when they first start moving together, duh. So it’s easier to have a set of rules going into it,” Stu informed, “but you and I are freestyling right now.”

“Right, cause I’m following your lead.”

“Exactly,” Stu nodded. “Only, when you’re dancing with your queen, you’ll be the one leading so pay attention.”

Stu pulled him through a couple of more revolutions.

“Billy.”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to be looking up at me.”

“Then how do I follow where you’re going?”

Stu stopped and so did Billy. 

The hand at Billy’s waist suddenly left his side. It tucked under his chin and lifted Billy’s head up till brown eyes met blue. “You follow my body with yours.” Stu explained in a low whisper. Billy swallowed. “You look at me, and we’re so close right now you can actually feel,” he took a step back, and hesitantly, Billy took that same step forward, “where I’m going.” Stu nodded.

Billy bit the inside of his lip, his eyes darted around Stu’s handsome face.

“Where I step, you step.” Stu reminded.

Billy nodded, maintaining eye contact with Stu. His voice cracked dry when he next spoke. “Yeah.”

Stu, careful to go slow for Billy’s sake, pulled the boy throughout the gym—at least what part of it was empty. And they were slow dancing together. Sometimes Stu would guide Billy through a twirl, and that was surprisingly pretty great.

He couldn’t believe it. He was dancing with Stu. How did life turn out this way? What did he do in his past life to deserve this?

“Hey,” basking in the face of Stu’s blinding smile, Billy tried to hold his back. His brow furrowed with purpose, “What song are we dancing to, anyway?”

Stu clearly wasn’t expecting that. “What do you mean? There’s no radio.”

“I’m not a dumbass,” Billy rolled his eyes. “You’re keeping time somehow, aren’t you? Plus you’re always mumbling some random song under your breath when you think no one else can hear you.”

Stu gaped down at Billy.

“Come on, give it up.” He insisted. “What song have you got in your head?”

Stu stayed silent for one beat before he gave a sigh of acceptance and shrugged. Smiling, he started humming a familiar tune. He and Billy kept dancing as his humming turned into a soft mumbling of words, that then turned into Stu quietly singing, “...a new beginnin’, a reason’ for living, a deeper meanin’ yeah,” he chuckled when Billy loudly groaned.

“Not that song,” Billy pressed his face into Stu’s shoulders. Stu held him close and they continued swaying together.

“I wanna stand with you on the mountain, I wanna bathe with you in the sea…”

Billy shook his head against the boy's shoulder. “So cheesy! Fucking hell.”

“...lay like this forever,” the smile in Stu’s voice was glaringly obvious, “until the sky falls down on me.”

With the chorus over, Stu fell back into simple humming. No words.

Billy pulled his face back to look at Stu, he just couldn’t bring himself to stop smiling. “I hate that song.”

Stu didn’t stop humming and only shrugged again. Billy huffed, rolled his eyes, and tucked back into Stu’s shoulder. He was content to listen like this as they danced. He could feel the vibrations of Stu’s voice thrum against his cheek. It felt nice. Stu sounded nice. He smelled like Blonde by Versace.

The words picked up again when Stu hit the second chorus.

“...in lonely hours, the tears devour you,” Stu sang, “And I wanna stand with you on the mountain…”

All the times Billy’s heard Stu singing was usually for a joke. When he wanted to be a spectacle, he’d belt out words to popular hit songs while sounding bad on purpose to churn easy laughter from their peers. He was also usually disrupting some kind of lecture or assignment when he did it, so it had the added effect of pissing teachers off. Two birds, one stone.

Other times, Billy would see Stu concentrating, like in the library or something, with his illegal walkman (no outside technology allowed) and he’d be reading a book or scrawling notes in his spiral. Off in his own world, lowly humming to himself whatever song was playing through his headphones. It had always been too quiet, and Billy had always been too far for him to hear the quality of Stu’s voice. Before today, Billy didn’t think he needed it. He was content to just watch from afar.

But now, up close like this, he could appreciate the wave of Stu’s singing gently washing over him. They slow danced in time to Stu’s voice, alone in the world. While Billy still hated the song, it was too overplayed, he could admit to himself that it didn’t sound bad when Stu sang it. Not at all.

✄–––––––—––––––––––––––—–––––––—–

Stu had his crossed arms resting over Billy’s shoulders giggling like a maniac as they both peered through the classroom window. Theater geeks weirded Billy out, he hated to be among them, but he needed to talk to Nancy, so here he was. Stu shifted, draping his arms over Billy’s shoulders instead. Here they were.

“Alright dumbass, off.” Billy pushed at the big galute, shoving him away with a finger in his face. “Wait here, don’t give yourself away. I won't bail you out if you get detention for ditching.”

Stu snorted. “Detention can’t touch me.” He smiled, “if Vice Principal fuckwit walked around the corner right now, he wouldn’t say shit.”

“I would beg to differ, but I really don’t care why you think you're impervious.” Billy scowled. “Stay here.”

Stu mimed zipping his lips and made a comfortable place for himself against the wall.

Billy shook his head and knocked on the classroom door twice before going in. He plastered on an easy smile and let everyone in the room turn to him.

The theater teacher, Mrs. Dandy—no actually. That was her name—was over at her desk, speaking with a student in a hushed tone while the class was left to it’s own devices. That is of course, until Billy entered.

“Mrs. Dandy, sorry to interrupt.” He was charming, he was normal, he was the face of all-american apple pie.

“Billy Loomis?” She arched a brow, “Not at all, how can I help you?”

Billy surveyed the class, ignoring everyone else staring back at him. “I’m looking for Nancy Thomspon. It’s for the Homecoming Committee.”

Just as he found her seat, she leaned around the student in front of her to get a better look at Billy. “Is something wrong? Did something change?” She rose from her seat and began to gather her things, without a response.

Nancy Thompson was relatively tall for a girl at 5’7”, she was athletic; a cheerleader since middle school, and very pretty according to half the school. If Billy had to hazard a guess, he’d say she had a pretty good shot of being homecoming queen.

It was the main reason why she cared so damn much about the dance in the first place. If she was gonna win, she wanted the very best. What-fucking-ever. Honestly, gun to his head, if Billy had to pick a queen, he’d rather it’d be her or maybe Sidney Prescott. Anything would be better than Casey fucking Becker winning instead.

Billy found out this morning that Casey was actually in the running, and a popular choice to win. It made his skin crawl. Even the chance that he’d be forced to dance with her. Ugh.

“Everything’s good, this’ll just take a second.” Billy smiled over at Mrs. Dandy, “I’m gonna have to take her off your hands for a moment, ma’am. We’ll be back as quick as possible.”

“As I said, it’s no problem, Billy.” She assured. “You kids go save homecoming.”

"We’ll certainly try our best.” He chuckled and mentally shot himself in the face.

Blood and viscera splattered behind him, his new orifice oozed steaming slime. He stood motionless for a few quick moments as the gaping hole in his brain—

Nancy was up quickly and joined him while she said a quick goodbye to her friends. Billy took a sharp inhale and was back in his own body. Healthy as a horse.

They met Stu outside, who had somehow found a kid to chat with in the two seconds Billy had been gone. Billy vaguely recognized her as a Sophomore named Rose something. She and Billy had an art class together last year.

Billy was quickly learning that in addition to everyone knowing ‘that Stu guy’ in general, apparently Stu knew everybody right back.

Stu smiled over to Billy and Nancy quickly before turning back to Rose. He pushed off the wall, “Hey, well we gotta go, but it was great chatting.”

Rose gave Stu a knowing smirk and grasped her crossbody strap as she nodded, “Likewise Macher. Always a pleasure.” Sharp brown eyes shifted to Billy and Nancy as she backed away, “Mr. President.”

Billy gave her a nod, and Nancy a wave, before she turned away from them and left.

“Sweet kid.” Stu reminisced. Then he smiled to Billy, “she needed help with History and I had her teacher last year, Mr. Trout, real piece of work.”

Nancy grimaced, “Ugh poor girl, I never had him thank god, but a girl friend of mine did. He put her through hell.”

But Billy knew what Stu meant. Stu never had Mr. Trout, but he did have access to all the major grade tests for Freshmen and Sophomores.

Even better, Billy knew Rose, she was no snitch.

Unfortunately for Billy, Stu was proving to be a much better, much more capable greaseman than Miles ever was. And that smug motherfucker knew it, too.

“Good looking out,” Billy frowned, and as expected, Stu preened in the praise.

“Always happy to help.”

“Speaking of, we gotta move.” Billy sniffed and took the lead, “Come on.” He didn’t look back as he started off down the hall. 

“Oh yeah,” Nancy and Stu followed quickly behind, “so, what's this all about, boys?”

Billy and Stu shared a look.

“Listen Nance, we know you’ve been doing the best with what you got…” Stu started.

Billy sighed at his niceties and finished the thought with edge. “But the gym looks like shit. It’s barely half done and the dance is fucking tomorrow.”

“I know that!” Nancy snapped. “It’s not my fault no one gives a fuck on that stupid committee but me, I can’t do everything!”

“We hear you,” Stu nodded. “That’s why we’re here. To help.”

“We’re most likely gonna be crowned tomorrow night, and I will not have our ceremony looking like shit,” Billy held his cold stare for a second before easing off. He managed a soft smile, “my queen deserves the best.”

Billy could see the moment he had her. Her glare melted as she fought back a smile of her own. She shook her head, “What did you geniuses have in mind?”

“Nothing but a bit of elbow grease and some goddamn determination.” Stu chuckled. “We pulled everyone from the committee, they’re all at the gym waiting for us now.”

“Wait what?” Nancy laughed like she couldn’t believe it. “That’s incredible, how’d you get them all?”

“You’d be surprised what an invite to the most exclusive after-party in Woodsboro will get you.”

“That and free pizza,” Billy rolled his eyes. “We snuck out and bought two pies to bribe ‘em with.”

“Yeah, yeah, nuance. Come on. Let’s pick up the pace, people,” Stu encouraged. With his extra long legs, he was already passing them up, Billy and Nancy had to start a light half-jog just to keep up.

“Stu, slow down!”

“Well this forest isn’t gonna enchant itself!”