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The front door chimed in your ears as you walked into the video store. Immediately, the familiar smell of of plastic covers and tapes warmly washed over you. Although you found yourself working countless hours in between the shelves, you never got over the scent that was unmistakably nostalgia and home wrapped in one.
The wide, open area filled with countless films buzzed with motion. Customers meandered through the aisles, eyes drifting to catch the perfect title; your coworkers hustled in precise and practiced movements, hands full of tapes to return to their spots. The contained chaos and livelihood were familiar. You almost felt beckoned to join in, but you were already a woman on a mission.
You didn’t even spare a glance.
Your bag swung softly down by your hip with each step you took toward the front. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth the closer you got to the back counter. Anticipation pulled at your chest.
“Randy, how’s it going?” you asked to the sliver of the employee shirt you caught ducked out of sight.
Your elbows pressed into the textured vinyl countertop. The thing had once been wood, but years of stacking tapes and other business had scraped and chipped grooves to the point a new layer had to be added. Even now, your thumb caught on the lifted edge of the material, and you flicked at it absentmindedly.
Everyone did it, so adding to the peeling problem wasn’t just on you.
“Hey, Y/n,” his voice came up from somewhere out of eyesight.
Your name muffled slightly as he rummaged around. His shirt stretched tight around his shoulders before he straightened, finally reappearing with a rather large stack of tapes in hand.
“It’s been dead, thankfully. I think Morrinson would have called you in otherwise.”
You exhaled sharply, puffing a strand of hair your of your eyes.
“No chance that would have happened. It’s my day off, and he knows better than to ruin it. Even if he tried, I wouldn’t show.”
Randy leaned across the counter and mirrored your stance, resting his weight on his elbows. “I think you’re the only employee that could get away with that.”
Your smile changed into something a little too confident. “I could get away with murder,” you teased, eyes glinting. “Morrinson just loves me that much. It’s why he fired you and not me.”
“Don’t remind me.” He winced and dragged a hand down his face. “I had to get down on my knees and beg for the job back.”
You perked up at that; your shoulders shifted more upright.
“Speaking of begging . . . please, please, please tell me you didn’t give away my copies of The Thing, Sleepaway Camp, and Carrie.” Your lips pushed into a pout to pair your sweetened, sarcastic whine. “I finally got all three in one place.”
Randy’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. “And what if I did?”
You leaned in further—close enough that your nose nearly brushed his. The sweetness of your tone switched into something quiet and deliberate.
“Then I guess they won’t find your body if you don’t give me my tapes, Randal.”
For a split second, the words might have landed.
But the grin that followed gave your bluff away.
Randy huffed under his breath and shook his head as he reached over and slid a three-tape tall stack over. Your expression lit up instantly. Gone were the thoughts of murdering your poor coworker and replaced with ones of nothing but praise.
“God bless, you, Randy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. The scanner he picked up chirped in uneven intervals as he began to scan returned tapes back into the database. “Why those three, anyway?”
“Because,” you dragged out. “If Billy or Stu make me watch Halloween or Psycho I’m going to lose. My. Mind.”
Each word landed with a sharp tap of your pointer against the counter: punctuated, deliberate.
“Billy can already pretty much repeat the movies verbatim.”
Your head ducked down and thunked against the counter, arms now swinging by your sides. Randy watched with a smile as your torso deflated under a pushed-out sigh. He reached over and patted your head twice in mock sympathy.
“Tragic. Truly tragic, Y/n.”
You swatted at his hand; you face curled with a scowl as you pressed yourself back up into a standing position.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. At least we’re not watching Prom Night. That movie is genuinely the worst.”
The effect of your confession was immediate.
Randy recoiled like you’d struck him right in the heart. His hand dramatically flew to his chest as he staggered back a step. Your face stayed passive and expressionless while he floundered about.
“That’s literally Jamie Lee Curtis, Y/n!” he yelped. “Jamie Lee Curtis! How can you hate the ‘Scream Queen?’”
“I don’t hate her, Randy,” you shot back. “There are just better movies.”
His tongue stuck out like you were back in third grade recess after you’d stolen his favorite swing.
“Better movies? Please. You’re telling me an alien and a depressed girl with telekinesis can beat an icon.”
You scoffed, shoulders sharply squaring as though you were preparing for war—because Randy just started one.
“Sissy Spacek gave us a perfect seminal supernatural horror tragedy with deep themes of repression, fanaticism, and revenge.” Your hand lifted as you spoke, fingers counting the themes like evidence. “Jamie runs from a guy with a knife who just happens to have psychotic issues and a childhood connection. And don’t get me started on the screaming; I can’t get through it without leaving with a debilitating headache. Carrie is the epitome of the winning final girl without having to watch everyone she loves die.”
“That’s because she didn’t have friends to begin with, sweetheart,” a new voice slid in from your right.
Before you could react, a familiar arm hooked around your shoulders and pulled you into a solid chest.
“And,” he continued lightly, “Carrie technically wasn’t the final girl. That was Sue.”
“Stu,” you grumbled, dragging out his name with your cheek smushed against him. “I consider her—”
“A final girl because she survived the bloodbath she caused; I know.”
His arm slipped from your shoulders. You ran your hands down your shirt where it had managed to wrinkle in the brief side hug, then tipped your chin up to look at him. His grin was wide, eyes nearly disappearing beneath it; the blues just barely peaked through.
“Well,” you countered, “then you should also know that Sue was thrown out beforehand by Miss Collins. She wasn’t even there for the finale.”
“I would just agree with her,” Randy cut in quickly. “Before she starts her whole ‘Sleepaway Camp is scarier than Halloween’ rant again.”
“Because it is! Do you know how horrifying it must have been to get hunted down by a—” Your words cut off abruptly.
Stu’s large hand clamped over your mouth, warm, sudden, and effectively muffling your next words, while his other hand cupped your cheek like it belonged there.
You glared up at him, eyes narrowing.
“Darling,” he said, smile still pointed down at you, “what have I said about spoilers, huh? We can’t give nightmares to poor Randy here.”
“I’ve seen the movie, idiot,” Randy hissed. “Remember, we watched it two movie nights ago. And it wasn’t even scary.”
Stu’s eyes flickered with mischief. “Huh. Funny. I’m pretty sure I heard some whimpering from your side of the room—hey!”
He jerked back with a shout, hand flying away from your mouth as you dragged your tongue in a wet path up his palm.
The look on his face—pure disgust—was immediate as he wiped his hand on his jeans.
“Puh-lease,” you sassed. “It’s just spit.”
“You have girl germs,” he whined, pouting dramatically. “Tell Taum I love her. I see a light. I think I’m dying right now from an infection”
“Oh, I’ll show you infection—”
You lunged but didn’t even make it two steps before arms wrapped around your middle from behind, lifting you clean off the ground.
A startled squeak tore our out you as your feet kicked uselessly at the air.
“Now, Dovey . . .”
The voice was low, familiar, and paired with the warmth of a breath against your cheek. You stilled almost instantly. “What’d Stu do this time?”
Stu squawked in protest, eyes widening in betrayal under the accusations.
“Me? I didn’t do nothing!” His arm stretched out with a pointed finger at the teen behind the counter as he shifted the blame. “Randy here got her kickstarted with his whole ‘Jamie Lee Curtis is superior’ before I got here!”
Randy held up his hands in surrender. “Woah, woah, woah, why are we pointing fingers at the movie boy? She cornered me first!”
“I’m right here,” you muttered, resting your arms over the ones currently keeping you hostage. “Can I be put down now, Billy?”
He paused before humming in thought.
“Only if that movie stack over there includes Halloween.”
You froze in his arms.
He knew you too well.
When you failed to come up with either the truth or a thought-up lie, he simply laughed. The sound echoed in your ears as his arms stayed put around your middle.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Billy,” you whined, head falling back against his shoulder. For the first time since he captured you, your eyes met his deep brown eyes. “We watch Halloween all the time. Alone, we watched it three times last week!”
“That’s cause it’s a good movie,” Stu added with knowing look.
He shut up immediately after your eyes narrowed in a glare, smart enough to know to not jump back in.
“You just like seeing Jamie’s tits,” you argued.
However, your tone didn’t match the upturned curl of your lips.
Your feet continued to dangle in the air as you writhed against Billy. But no matter how much you moved, he kept you tight with your feet still a few inches above the ground.
“Come on, guys. Let’s put away your need for boobs for one night so we can watch the ones I picked. I swear next week we’ll watch whatever you want to.”
As their lips stretched into smirks, you knew you had made the wrong offer.
“But we can’t watch The Evil Dead,” you stuttered out, trying to undo the damage, but it was too late and the plea fell on deaf ears.
“Nope,” Stu said, popping the p with a devious smile. “You said anything, sweetness, and that means anything includingThe Evil Dead.”
You’d dug your own grave with that one.
Your head hung in shame.
“Then you better not complain when I show up to your house. You know what happened the last time we watched The Evil Dead,” you reminded, shoulders shuddering against Billy’s chest.
Stu gulped loudly at the thought of the sleepless nights in his future if he actually let you watch the movie.
After a beat, Billy shifted, back bending down to let your feet settled on the video store’s patterned carpet. However, his arms stayed in place, keeping you firmly in his grasp. His bangs tickled your neck as he e his chin on your shoulder. The closeness brought a nice warmth to cover the both of you like a safety blanket.
“Don’t worry, Dovey,” he cooed, voice soft and low unlike his usual detached-to-life tone. “We’ll keep the demons away from you.”
His promise sent an invisible shiver down your spine.
Stu’s arms raised in a flex with his biceps filling in the sleeves of his shirt.
“Yeah, there’s no reason to panic, hot stuff. Your knights in shining armor will keep you safe,” he boasted, drawing a scoff from your lips.
“Sure,” you flatly stated with a cocked eyebrow. “Except you’re seemingly forgetting that Scott—a man—was the one to release the demons in the first place through an act of stupidity on his part.”
Randy made a tutting sound behind the counter. Even with a glare his way, he persisted.
“But The Evil Dead is one of few horror movies that has a final boy instead of a final girl,” he pointed out, brows pinched in confusion. “I still can’t believe you can watch endless hours of knife-wielding manic murderers, but demons are your big no-no.”
“I can fight back against a man with a knife,” you confidently said. “But demons can just—” Your arms swooped toward your chest. “Inhabit you whenever.”
Tired of the banter, you reached out and rested a hand on the three tapes before Randy could continue to question your horror-movie preferences.
“Can I take these now, or are you going to make me recite every Jamie horror movie made?”
He motioned for you to go ahead with a flick of his wrist.
“Nah, you’re good. Just remember it’s going on your account.”
You nodded and scooped the tapes to your chest. The plastic crinkled softly in your grasp.
“At least I get to keep these longer,” you mentioned with a pleased look. “Perks of working at the place. Hey, you’re still coming over later, right?”
He winced.
You froze with wide eyes as realization settled ugly in your chest.
“Randy,” you whined loudly. “This is the third movie night you’ve skipped in five weeks!”
Your spread-out hand made him wince even more.
His hands rose and pressed into his face.
“I know.”
The two words muffled through the cracks of his fingers. He dropped them and looked at you, face drooping in sadness and guilt.
“But Morrinson is up my ass about working the closing shift. I can’t get fired again, Y/n, or my mom’s going to make me pay for college.”
You matched his grimace, lips curling, nose crinkling at the thought. Paying for college was thankfully something that you didn’t even have to think of.
“Ew, yeah, okay, that’s understandable.”
His eyes shifted over your shoulder for a blink.
“Not everyone has rich parents and a full scholarship.”
You knew he was looking at Stu and Billy, both who had college settled without a second thought. Something foreign—a mix of understanding and envy—pulsed through your body.
You reached over the counter with a knowing expression. Randy leaned into the hand that rested against his shoulder.
“Yeah, I get that.” You looked back with the quickest glance. “I don’t even know if I’m going to away college, you know, with my dad and everything, I think staying here with my mom might help.”
Your lip caught between your teeth after the confession. It felt sticky in your mouth, and the thought of never getting out of Woodsboro was something you didn’t want to dwell on even if the seemingly planned future was growing closer by the minute.
Randy’s eyes swam with melancholy. He didn’t like seeing you sad.
“Nah,” he sputtered, desperately wanting to get a smile back on your face. “You’re gonna get out of this podunk town and become a movie star or something. I’ll be watching for your tape.”
A wistful sigh spilled from your lungs, but Randy had been successful. Your small warm grin was back. It wasn’t big, but it counted for all it was worth to him.
“Heavy on the or something,” you huffed. You shifted on your feet and tried to lighten the mood back up. “But it’s the summer! Let’s not get depressed over nothing. I’ll save you some popcorn and bring it during my shift tomorrow.”
The thoughtful promise bloomed in Randy’s chest—the kind he’d be thinking about until you showed up the next morning. His cheeks heated ever so slightly when you leaned in closer, smile growing by the second. He blinked under a finger tap to his nose.
“I’ll even let you pick the movie for the store screens.”
A laugh bubbled from his chest, and he couldn’t help but shake his head.
“How kind of you.”
A loud crashing and tumbling noise behind had your body twisting to see the mess that someone made. You giggled loudly as you watched Billy and Stu duck down near an aisle, hands grabbing at multiple tapes near the crime scene. You watched them squabble before turning back to Randy with a thumb thrown over your shoulder.
“I better go before Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb make a bigger mess. I’ll see you tomorrow, Randy.”
“Bye, Y/n.”
You measured your steps slowly in order to time your pace to when they boys popped back up. Their eyes shifted around, trying to see if anyone noticed the mess they had made. You bit back a grin, wanting to let them stew in their ignorance to yours and Randy’s watching eyes.
“Guess it’s just us, Tatum, and Sidney,” you said, trying for lightness. “Randy’s stuck with the closing shift.”
Stu scratched the back of his neck, eyes landing everywhere but your face. “About that . . .”
Something in your chest sank.
You groaned, louder than necessary, and stomped your foot against the carpet. “Don’t tell me they canceled too.”
Your mouth twisted into a frown as word spilled from your mouth like you could outrun whatever answer was coming. “From six to three? Great. At least we’ll have a ton of food—”
Their silence was enough to stop the flood.
You looked up.
Both of them had the same soft, almost apologetic look plastered on their faces.
Oh.
“. . . guess it just went down to me.”
Stu pursed his lips. “We didn’t want to cancel but my parents . . .” His voice trailed off, leaving the excuse unfinished.
You wordlessly filled it in anyway. You always did.
Your hand lifted, brushing slightly down his arm in a gesture that was meant to be reassuring. “It’s fine! I know it’s . . .”
The word rare sat heavy on your tongue, but you managed to swallow it down.
“. . . special when they’re in town.”
You turned to Billy, already bracing yourself. “Your dad?”
He nodded almost like he was still trying to convince himself. “Some house project. Has to be done tonight.”
“Gotcha.”
The word came out smaller than you meant it to. Your shoulders sank beneath your jacket, the weight of it suddenly noticeable. You focused very hard on keeping your face neutral, keeping everything in place without giving any emotions away.
“We’ll just reschedule then,” you added quickly. “Easy enough.” Over their heads, your eyes landed on the clock like it could give you an out. “Guess I better get going; the movies aren’t going to watch themselves.”
You hugged the tapes close to your chest and stepped forward, slipping between them before either could stop you.
“Dovey.”
Billy’s voice caught you just before the door.
You turned, slow, like it took an effort.
His expression faltered the second he saw your face.
“We’re really sorry,” Stu said, quieter now, a stark contrast to his boisterous personality. The tone didn’t fit him.
“It’s fine,” you insisted. Too fast. Too practiced. “Really.”
Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips, like that might keep everything else from slipping out with it. The unvoiced whimpers weighed heavy in your throat. “You don’t have to be sorry; I get it.”
A pause then, “Tell your parents I said hi.”
You forced a smile—tight, polite, and just enough to pass—and turned around before it could fall down to the floor. The bell above the door chimes as you pushed out into the sun-kissed afternoon. For a second, you didn’t move. Then your feet started in quick and uneven steps as your vision blurred just enough you had to blink it clear. Your hand came up and wiped at your face like what just happened was nothing, like it didn’t matter.
Inside, the store’s vibrance dimmed without your presence.
“Damn,” Randy muttered behind the two, hands filled with tapes to put back on the shelves. “If I had known no one else could come, I would’ve tried to get my shift covered. She’s been trying to get those tapes for the past week.”
Stu tilted his head, still staring at the door. “She’s never been this upset about movie night before.”
Randy shrugged, sliding a tape back into place without thought. “It’s probably her dad. Guy’s a total asshole.” He shuddered. “Wouldn’t want to be stuck in a house with him.”
Billy didn’t move, didn’t say anything.
His jaw tightened, eyes fixated on the spot you disappeared from with something unreadable settled behind them. He slowly shut his eyes, trying to will away the guilt, but your face—your sad, disappointed face—burned through his eyelids. The want to take everything back, to tell you that they weren’t busy, to track you down outside and drive you straight to his house to watch the tapes you picked pressed uncomfortably in his chest.
But he didn’t give in.
He just buried the feelings along with his hands in his pockets.
“Come on, Stu,” he muttered, all the life sucked out of his voice.
Stu wordlessly followed without thought, without one last jab at Randy.
It was weird. Unnatural in Randy’s opinion. He huffed through the chime of the bell as the two went off in the same direction. Which was also weird since he knew the two lived in different directions. But for his sake (and yours), he went right back to work, mindlessly putting the tapes back in their places.
_______________________
By the time the sun had dipped out of sight, your mood had gone from bad to worse to an indescribable amount of feelings you didn’t want to deal with.
Your house had been quiet—a little too quiet—when you got home. The tears that had spilled were long gone, leaving those faint, tight trails only you knew where there. Just like the house, you’d felt physically incapable of bringing a liveliness into the room.
The evening had been ruined before it had the chance to redeem itself.
Dinner had been another tally to the disappointments. The table, although filled with a well-cooked meal, did little to pacify the doomed feeling that settled in your chest. Instead of counting down the minutes for a movie night, you counted the grain lines that ran up and down the table, wishing that you could run right with them out the door. Your fork poked and prodded at the food; the scraping sound sent the wrong kind of chill up your arms.
After the last bite slid begrudgingly down your throat, you pushed away from the table, wanting to quickly escape the stifling room. Your plate had barely settled at the bottom of the sink before you were already halfway up the staircase, feet thundering against the wood in attempts to put space between you and two people who constantly failed to care.
At least in your room, no one could hurt you.
It was a safe haven for you to sink into your duvet unbothered, the fabric doing a poor job of mimicking the comfort of Billy’s arms around you. You twisted against the baby blue color, hands yanking down your jeans to toss somewhere forgettable. If you listened, you could have heard the sigh of relief from your skin.
Your shirt soon joined the discarded pants in favor of a need for something more cozy and less restricting.
The pull of your dresser echoed against your memory-filled walls. The soft fabrics brushed against your palms, each reaching out to be picked, but you already had a shirt in mind.
“Aha,” you softly said, not wanting to break the small bit of peace you had growing.
You pulled the shirt over your head, the faded maroon dragging down your face, leaving hairs frizzed in its wake. The stretched-out collar sat perfectly against your collarbones like it knew it belonged there.
And it did.
Billy had said so, face illuminated by the TV and voice quiet to not wake anyone else up. He never asked for it back.
His shirt’s home was across your shoulders and down to your thighs.
You yanked up a pair of biking shorts that were swallowed by the shirt. The fabrics swished together as you put the first tape into your small TV—something not everyone got in a bedroom.
Sidney had her computer, Tatum had her stereo, and you had the one thing you could always depend on.
The white plastic crinkled in your hands as you opened it up, the tape waiting to be played. You slipped it into the slot causing the familiar whir of the machine to hum softly. The main menu was already flickering through the static by the time you sank back into your pillows, hands pulling the duvet up over your legs. One click of the remote had the screen shifting into the opening credits of Carrie.
The room filled with a low, comforting glow—just bright enough to keep your dark room from feeling overpowering.
You lazily watched the opening scene, trying to follow the story line.
But by five minutes in, your mind had already wandered away from the movie you’d been so set on earlier. The characters talked and the plot continued, but nothing was clicking.
You were too focused on the empty spaces beside you. The quiet that followed a part where conversation should have flowed.
You exhaled slowly, eyes going back to the screen. The scene changed again, and you realized you were lost. You tried to make sense of the dialogue, but nothing stuck.
A small frown tugged at your lips, and your hand blindly reached for the remote.
The characters froze in a pause before the screen went dark, tape popping back out of the slot. Your legs swung over, and a second later, your feet were already cross the room without a thought. Carrie went back in her plastic while your eyes scanned over the other two tapes you’d brought home.
Their cases yearned to be opened, movies yearning to be played, but your hovering hand reached passed them, finger tips brushing over to take hold of something more familiar, something more loved.
You freed the tape and placed it into the slot without a blink.
It disappeared into the TV with a soft whir.
Your body shifted along with the static of the new movie.
A beat passed.
A blink.
The screen shifted, and the slow, creeping score filled your room like it had a memory of its own.
Your back was already turned, path to your bed lined out, when you stilled. You all but melted back into the mattress, something finally loosening between your limbs. When the distinct title card of Halloween filled your screen, you tucked yourself deeper beneath the covers subconsciously, like your body was prepared to be squished between two ghosts.
They didn’t come, but the movie filled in their missing presence.
“. . . whatever,” you grumbled, duvet tucked under your chin. “It’s just background noise.”
But even with your insistence, you found yourself engrossed in the plots and characters. In just one heartbeat, you were sucked in, eyes unwavering from the screen. Your fingers twisted loosely in the fabric of the shirt. The emptiness of the room drifted with each scene.
It didn’t feel as empty as it had. Not quite filled, but not quite alone.
Your lips moved with lines you could recite in your sleep, and you found yourself missing the soft timber that accompanied your voice, the loud laugh that followed a scene too corny for real life.
You missed them.
Your soul ached without their added ambiance wherever you went.
Even in your room—the space that was irrevocably yours—didn’t quite feel right without them pressed up against you with Billy’s hand in your hair and Stu’s horribly-long leg tossed over your lap.
The movie paced like it’d never end, but you fought to stay awake until the finale. With no one to bounce off of, your brain slowed, slurping up the dialogue and characters like syrup. It was so perfectly cocooned around you that you almost missed the smallest tap to against your window.
But almost is never all the way.
You froze for a skip before your hand curled around the remote, the TV pausing red with fake blood splashed in static. The room was drenched in stillness, allowing your ears to catch another tap.
And then another.
By the third, your duvet was halfway on the floor, forgotten as you walked over to the window. Somewhere deep down, an alarm was going off, blinking, warning you to think about opening your window for whoever might be covered by the darkness.
The locks clicked, and the window rose in your hands, revealing nothing but the tree from your front yard. You sighed loudly, disappointment rolling out with the puff. Rising, your hands rested back against the window, ready to push it back down to close off the world until morning, when a hand reached out and grabbed your wrist.
There was a noise—the smallest hitch of your breath—and then there was a face.
And then two.
That breath released into something shocked, something relieved.
“Hey, baby,” Stu whispered, teeth starched under his smile. “Is it too late for movie night?”
“What are you two doing here?” you shot back, wrist still warm in Billy’s hand.
Through the confusion and relief, you mindlessly stepped back, pulling the brunette forward through your window. His black sneakers pressed down firmly against your carpet, careful not to land on your bare toes.
Once through, he straightened, towering and adding another shadow to the room. His almost black eyes trailed down your face, always calculating, always reading your emotions like you were his favorite book.
And you were.
He let his eyes roam. Didn’t hide the action from anyone.
Because of this, he didn’t miss the way your eyelashes had clumped under tears, the way your shoulders still drooped, the way you were swimming in the shirt—wait.
“Is that my shirt?” he asked, attention fully on the maroon fabric that had been missing from his things.
Your fingers curled around the hem.
“You never asked for it back.”
A stumble behind Billy popped the building tension. Large hands clamped down on his shoulders.
“Sorry,” Stu apologized, voice still sounding between a yell and a whisper. “I forget your bookshelf is there.”
A swallow bobbed thickly in your throat under their gaze. Your room, although you had craved company, felt overrun and tense.
“It’s fine.”
There was that insistence again. That everything was fine.
Fine that they couldn’t make it.
Fine that Stu had almost knocked things over.
Fine that they were here despite their words from earlier.
The word dug under their skin and gripped at their veins.
You shifted.
They mirrored in a weird, silent dance of who’d move first, who’d break the unnecessary barrier they’d accidentally set up.
Stu’s eyes flickered desperately around the room, trying to find something—anything to get his mouth to spill. Like some divine intervention, his eyes turned purple under the TV’s cast. The scene snapped to the front of his mind like it was second nature.
“Did you miss seeing Jamie’s tits that much?”
For a split second, he feared the joke wouldn’t land, that it would sputter so far, you’d kick them both out without a second glance.
And for a moment, you thought so too.
But then your lips curled against your will, and the softest giggle spilled before you could swallow it. Rolling your eyes, you turned and walked back over to your bed.
“Shoes off before you get in,” you reminded.
The invitation sent the room back into motion. The two boys bent down in synch, fingers itching at their shoe laces in a wordless race. You watched fondly as Billy fought against gravity, shoulders bumping against Stu in attempts to keep upright.
They both scampered over and fell into their places at your side. Even if one had finished before the other, the three of you had been doing this long enough that Billy always got your right and Stu got your left. The set up engraved itself years ago.
Fighting against it would have been blasphemous.
Billy fluffed the duvet, eyes catching the softest glint of your bare legs. He congratulated himself for choosing his sweatpants. He knows you wouldn’t have let him push up against you if he hadn’t.
Their added warmth was instantaneous. Whatever ache was left in your bones soothed with it, leaving you puttied between them. Your hips twisted, slotting against Billy’s side in a curl. His arm settled in the dent of your neck, right where it belonged.
Stu grabbed the remote. One press had the movie restarting, reviving your evening from the dead. The device fell forgotten between yours and Stu’s bodies. The blond haphazardly threw a leg over your middle, face smushed into your shoulder. He hummed lowly at the feeling of a small sliver of your skin against his cheek.
If it were up to him, he’d dig under your skin and live there.
From around your neck, Billy’s hand trailed up and twisted into your hair, grounding himself in your scent, in the moment of your body against his. The strands intertwined with his long fingers in a pseudo-hand holding. It was the best he could do as a man with a girlfriend, one he wished was you instead.
But he’d have to be fine with this—you snug between him and his companion, breathing like you belonged there.
The movie ran its course, the only onlooker to this three-way between a girl and two ghosts.
Through the changing scenes, they took turn glancing over, eyes trailing your softening face illuminated by the blood-filled scenes. Each blink they caught seemed slower than the last, the telltale sign that you were moments away from falling asleep.
Which is why they didn’t expect your voice to join the script.
“Missed you two.”
The small, barely-there confession had them shifting, but they kept still, waiting for you to keep going. When only the movie played, your right jostled in a soft nudge.
“What was that, Dovey?” Billy asked, head turning, nose bumping into your temple.
Suddenly shy, you shoved your face farther into his shoulder.
“I didn’t turn on Halloween because I missed Jamie’s tits; I turned it on because I realized that movies aren’t fun without you two,” your lips moved in a mutter against his soft shirt. “It was too quiet; didn’t like it.”
Stu’s arm joined his leg, the two clamping over you and pulling himself flush. There really wasn’t room for him to get any closer.
He did it anyway.
Impossibly warm between the two, you simmered, letting the feeling consume you like wildfire. The movie turned white noise between your drooping eyes. Wanting to stay awake, your head flopped off of Billy’s shoulder but was caught by his hand.
A gentle shhh pushed through his lips as he brought your head back over, back to where he could feel your breath against his collar.
Right where he wanted you to stay for as long as possible.
Safe where he could watch you dream unmoving and undisturbed.
An argumentative grunt pushed from your lungs. It fell short on deaf ears.
“The movie—”
“The movie will be here in the morning, angel,” Stu said, voice finally reaching a whisper. “Just sleep; we got you.”
They felt the moment you let sleep overtake your senses, chest rising and falling in even strokes. Billy made no move to grab the remote, choosing to let the movie run its course. Besides, he enjoyed the way your face glowed in the light.
He watched Stu drag a finger down your cheek, soft and so unlike his normal self. Billy thought you’d twitch, wake, or even bat the hand away.
No, you subconsciously leaned in before settling back down.
Stu’s smile stretched wide, a coo leaking from his lips. The blond stayed quiet for your sake, shimming down to fully drape himself across your back. He huffed, breath softly rustling strands of your hair.
“We staying here, right?” he mumbled, exhaustion thick on his tongue. “Don’t wanna leave.”
Billy shifted. Now settled on his side, he looked over your shoulder and into Stu’s blue eyes and rested his hand on the bony shoulder. Comfort pulsed under his palm, steady and unwavering.
“Just sleep,” he reassured.
“Mmmmmmm love you, Bambi.”
In an inhale, his and your chest met up in synch.
Billy couldn’t help but smile as love tangled deep in his ribs.
“Love you.”
His words echoed against the two silent sleepers, washing over you and Stu like a lapping wave. He’d keep you both safe, sound, and happy—especially happy.
Even if he had to kill to do it.
He wouldn’t even think twice.
His eyes dragged away from your body slipped beneath his eyelids, the end credits finally spilling on the screen.
As sleep claimed another victim, Billy’s grip tightened around your middle, arms flexing just slightly like he was making sure you wouldn’t slip away.
For the first that night, everything felt right just as it was supposed to be.