Hello! Not Really A Ask But I Just Wanted To Say I Love Your Writing. I Just Binge Read Your Final Girl

Hello! Not really a ‘Ask’ but I just wanted to say I love your writing. I just binge read your final girl series of what you have so far as well as some other ones. Thanks for all the time and effort you put into them for lack of better words <3

thank you love !! nothing makes me happier than knowing ppl are enjoying my writing :)

me reading through my drafts knowing what i’m gatekeeping

Billy: *calls y/n* where are you?

Y/n: the shower… can you come help

Billy: yes! *rushes to the bathroom*

Stu: *is on his hands and knees trying to peak under the door sticking his fingers under it* come on y/n come out?!

Billy: *sighs realizing that this was the reason they needed help*

Hi, I’m sorry to bother you. I’m not sure if your still making them but if you end up making more of the Final Girl fic with Billy and Stu, could you please tag me in it. I was going to try asking in the comments of the post but I wouldn’t let me, no pressure or anything I just wanted to ask in case

thank you

Hi hon! never a bother to receive an ask,, i am for sure still writing final girl...part 8 is just taking way longer than expected but i'm getting there!

i'd be happy to add you to the taglist but since this is an anonymous message idk your username in order to tag you

the commenting thing is weird?? never heard of that on one of my posts, but it's probably just a glitch or something,, you can send another ask off of anon if you can't comment or you can message me to be added (or, if you see this and can comment on this post, i'll know your username!!) anything that lets me see your username and we'll be good!!

Hi! I'm back with another request and it is stu again(I'm sorry I'm in a phase rn) . In this request I was wondering if we could get Stu walking the reader from class to their locker, waiting for them at their locker, and then walking them to their next class. I know you've mentioned it before yk with Stu waiting for the reader and I'd just love to see the casual intimacy like in the last request (and also I hope you're feeling better after the break down you went through I'm not sure if this is a good time for request for you and if not thats so understandable I'm so sorry take your time, obviously if you do do this request I'd appreciate it but if you don't thats so okay i mainly sent this in bc you said you were in your Stu era and what kind of loyal reader would I be if I didn't indulge one of my favorite writers by tricking them into writing/talking about one of there current favorite characters :)

A/n hi, i'm feeling better now :)) i'm home so that always helps and done with school until close to late january so that definitely helps lol

also side note, i try to keep the appearance of the reader as vague as possible but at the beginning i do mention the reader having long enough hair to be tied back/up with a hair tie 

this took a minute but i hope it’s worth it!! 

----

You're practically bouncing on the balls of your feet once the bell rings, more akin to a little kid getting ready to run across the park than a student simply getting a few minutes to move from second period to third. It feels a little silly, especially when you intentionally keep your freshly graded test on top of your folder instead of tucking it away, but it's become a bit of a habit.

You'd think about breaking it if it wasn't for the fact that no one ever gives you a reaction quite like Stu. Sure, he's purposefully over the top, oversaturating his enthusiasm with his tone and teasing humor, but it's nice. Comforting in the way it never dwindles no matter how many things you bring up that you don't think anyone else would have the energy to even pretend to care about.

Out in the hallway, you adjust your hold on your math textbook and the plastic folder that's resting over it. Your head turns left, towards the row of lockers that he's always waiting near. Only, this time Stu's not there. Not looking through his actual locker or talking to Billy or Tatum or anyone. He's not there. At all.

You're more confused than you should be, it's not like Stu owes you his presence, but it is weird considering that this is the first time he's ever not been there since your tradition started. You frown, a little offended by his absence. Things with Stu are more intentional than he wants them to seem, a fact you picked up pretty quickly after meeting him, but something insecure within you twists at the thought that maybe he just forgot. Or decided he just didn't feel like it today.

Even though the hall is quickly flooding with teens, you crane your neck in the direction of Stu's second period. Stu has a tendency to stand out, too tall and too much of a force to blend in if one makes up their mind to look for him. It shouldn't be hard to--you bite your tongue to avoid yelping as some firm force settles on your upper hip.

You've heard too many stories, seen too many girls rant or tear up in the bathroom after some entitled guy thought it'd be funny to grab or grope under the guise of accidentally bumping into someone thanks to overcrowding. For a brief second, the contact feels pointed and wrong. You turn stiffly, eyes wide until they settle on a familiar grin.

Panic fading almost immediately, you exhale. "Stu."

When you don't melt , Stu drops his arms, offering you a halfhearted, "...Boo."

You roll your eyes, half stepping back. "You scared me."

“Should’ve been paying more attention,” he mumbles, expression slightly scolding. 

A retort about how you were just looking for him because he’s always waiting across the hall rises and dies on your tongue. There’s no normal way to explain that, and even if the fact that you were waiting for him wasn’t totally mortifying, your sure he’d find a way to tease you. One of those jokes about how he didn’t realize the two of you hadn’t gotten so serious and since when were you such a ball and chain? 

So instead of saying anything like that, you tilt your chin up, “You snuck up on me on purpose and we both know it.” 

“I’ll make it up to you later.” The suggestive wink earns him an eye roll. 

“Sure,” you mumble pointedly, “Guess what?” The question is rhetorical enough that you don’t even have to wait a full beat to answer, “We got our tests back!” 

You lift your paper, careful not to cover the red A+ circled on the first page. Stu’s mouth falls open briefly in a look that’s just a little too amazed for a reaction to a math exam. “Wow,” he takes the packet from you, leafing through it without taking it in fully, “This is some complex shit, too.” 

He sets the test back down over your folder before ruffling your hair in a way that’s nearly too affectionate, harsh enough to make your head move at an angle that strains your neck. “Harvard bound.” 

You brush him off with a barely contained smile, softly pushing against his hands before attempting to smooth out the mess he made. “Okay--knock it off, I actually liked how my hair looked today.”  

“It’s not fair that you’re the smartest person in the room and the prettiest.” The blatant compliments without their usual layers of implication and subtle-not-so-subtle innuendos are enough to get you to pause. 

Stu briefly squeezes you to him before taking the textbook from your hands. It’s easy to let go now that the habit’s been established. You rarely carry anything in between classes anymore, Stu either making up a silly excuse to take your textbooks or doing so silently. "Someone’s too smart to carry things.” He forces mock irritation into his voice. 

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” It’s half accusing, but you make no move to take your books back. 

“Uh-huh,” he hums dismissively, “Whatever you say, smarty.” 

----

You can’t remember the last time Stu’s house felt so hot, maybe it has to do with how overly humid the outside world is today, but you’re struggling to feel fully comfortable despite your contentment.

Stu’s talking, reiterating everything wrong with some low budget horror film he stumbled onto last night. You’re listening a little less than you’d like to and you honestly feel bad about it, but you can’t help the way the heat on the back of your neck distracts you. 

Billy sits up a little more, “I’m not surprised, your movie instincts are awful.” It sounds like the start of one of their debates that are better off without your interference, and you’re okay with that. This week has been long and this is the first moment that’s allowed you to really breathe. You don’t mind absorbing that for a second and just taking in their presence and the easiness it brings you. 

“They’re not worse than yours.” 

“Even Y/n picks better.” 

Something about the way Billy’s eyes focus on you makes you feel like it’s a genuine attempt on Billy’s part to bring you in a little more. Even though you don’t feel insulted, you still sit up a little more, “Thanks.” 

“Ouch, man.” The fact that Stu’s basically dropping the argument in order to add to the jab at your taste is enough to get you to turn your head. 

You glare, shoving his shoulder. “My taste is not bad.” They exchange a look that has you feeling like you’re on the outs of some joke. “You guys are the worst, I have no idea why I hang out with you.” 

“’Cause you love us.” Stu nudges his foot against yours, bumping your knees in the process. 

The additional closeness reminds you of the warmth of the room. To avoid crossing your arms or doing anything that would get them to accuse you of pouting, you begin to pull your hair away from your neck. The hair tie against your wrist smacks against your skin. Loud and stinging a little too noticeably. It’s not painful, but surprising enough to make you drop your hair. “Stu.” 

He ignores the harshness of your voice, instead choosing to chase after your wrist with one hand. “Give it.” There’s something about the way he says it that stands out to you. It’s reminiscent of a child noticing a brand new toy and instantly deciding that they want it. 

Before you realize what he’s asking for, Stu pulls the hair tie off of you and takes a second to stretch it between his fingers. What he’s trying to do finally sinks in when Stu slides the band up his wrist. You’re not in the mood to redefine how tender scalped you consider yourself to be, but there’s no way to say that in a way that won’t make Stu moody. 

“Turn.” It’s a command so gentle you listen instinctually despite your reservations.

You barely have a second to adjust before Stu’s pushing your hair back. “Are you--” His touch is surprisingly focused, not tugging on the strands in the way you’d expect him to. “Are you putting my hair up?” 

“Yep,” he pops the ‘p’ casually, like there’s nothing weird about this. 

He drags his palms against the top of your scalp a little clumsily. It’s not that weird. Not really, you decide, just different. Any type of ponytail or loose bun would have never taken you this long and it’s clear that Stu doesn’t really know what he’s doing, but it doesn’t hurt. He’s being restrained, gentle.

“You’re letting him do your hair?” 

You shrug at Billy’s comment, feeling a little awkward as Stu finally reaches your scalp. “The good thing about hair is that it always grows back.” Stu tugs at your hair pointedly. “Ouch.” 

"Rude.” 

“Billy started it.”

Billy half scoffs. “Just asked a question.” 

A pointed question. You’re about to point that out, but then you hear the tell tale snap of a hair tie being pulled off of a wrist. Stu twists it around your hair carefully and you ease. He lingers, fingertips brushing against your neck before releasing you.

You tilt your head slightly, surprised at how well your hair is pulled off your neck. Not tight enough to feel pulled or like the start of a headache but not loose enough to be annoying. Even though there was some hesitance, he did a lot better than you thought he would. Better than most boys would have done. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have assumed he had never done anything like this before. You know about his older sister, and while she’s a sore subject now, maybe there was a time when she wasn’t. And even if that’s a stretch, Stu’s a total flirt that’s been circling around a relationship with Tatum for a minute now. 

 Your fingers brush against the end of your hair. “You did good.” 

“Give me some credit, babydoll.” You wrinkle your nose at that and Stu grins. “I’ve had a lot of practice. When a girl gives he--” 

“Ew.” And just like that, the moment ends. “You’re gross, I hope you know that.” 

“He knows,” Billy mumbles, tone extra casual to compensate for his slight smile, “Gets off on it, too.” 

You snort, an ungracefully sharp laugh as you sink further into the couch. Stu lets out a sound of protest, shooting a glare in Billy’s direction. “Fuck off.” You laugh again. “Both of you.”

Stu scoots away from you. With a sigh, you reach forward. He plays up his pain for a second but eventually relents, letting you tug his hand into the space between you two. 

---- 

It’s twisting--the world, your mind, the blank spot of the wall you’re tying to focus on. All of it. Swirling at a rate that’s practically nauseating as emotions you can’t fully label in your current state spur on the feelings. They’re a fog, disorientating and complicated. You don’t want to figure out each hue of your feelings so you label them under one umbrella: bad. 

You take a breath that’s meant to settle you, but it does the opposite. Your unsteadiness leaves you instinctually wanting to reach over, to grab Stu’s arm and stabilize yourself. But he’s standing there with that same illegible, yet clearly irritated expression. You’re not sure if it’s the beer on an empty stomach or what happened five minutes ago or the silence, but the yellowish tinge of the bathroom’s light adds something to Stu’s features. Something bordering on eerie. 

Part of you wants to speak, the rest of you feels like the best thing you can do is just keep standing there. You’re not convinced that Stu’s anger is fully directed at the third party. He’s at the very least annoyed at you. 

Leave it to Stu to think that you’re taking the side of the guy that kept hitting on you despite how visibly uncomfortable you got just because you didn’t want things escalating. It wasn’t worth it. Was the guy an annoying asshole? Yes. But you had it under control and Sidney and Tatum were right there. It wasn’t exactly dire. 

The quiet is ebbing at your patience. There’s probably some perfect thing to say to shatter the tension, but you can’t think of anything clever or tactful and the last thing you can handle right now is a fight. Your mind tunes into the music that’s softened by the closed space. The thumping base is both terrible and familiar. “I hate this song.” 

Stu blinks, gaze shifting towards you. He doesn’t quite ease, but he lets out a breath that could be considered a form of lighthearted acknowledgment. You’ll take it. “Last one was worse.” 

You let yourself smile. “Definitely competition.”

He pretends to gasp. “No argument,” he shoots his reply back so quickly you nearly get whiplash, “Color me shocked.” 

The theatrics do little to take away from the lethal levels of aggression pressed into his words. That did seem too easy. “I--I didn’t--” You don’t want to explain. You shouldn’t even need to. You were keeping his ass out of trouble. “I just didn’t want you to get in trouble. It wasn’t worth it.” He’s silent for a second, which you can’t make your mind up about. “He wasn’t worth it.” 

Stu scoffs, pushing himself away from the wall. “You’re defending hi--” 

“I am not.” Ugh. Can he not hear you? If there’s anyone in this situation that you’re trying to defend, to protect it’s Stu. You try to swallow, but your throat still feels overly dry. 

“You heard the shit he said about you.” 

Okay, speaking calmly is not working. “I don’t care about the shit he said about me, I care about you.” The blowup immediately fills you with regret. “It wasn’t that big a deal. You’ve said worse while we were literally in class.” 

Stu straightens in a way that makes his full height unignorable. You doubt that it’s intentional--he can’t help that he’s objectively tall, but noticing it now...And the way he’s looking a little beyond you with a hardened stare that feels more sober than it did a second ago. “The way he was looking at you and then he grabbed your arm.” Stu’s voice changes with no warning, taking a dark edge that nearly startles you. 

You blink, biting your tongue to keep from admitting that you had barely noticed. That sounds like purposefully playing oblivious, but it’s true. You had hardly looked at the guy until his clammy fingers were around your forearm. That had been scary. Even Sidney and Tatum had reacted. “Thanks for getting him off of me, by the way.” It feels awkward, but saying it takes a weight off of your check. “Even though the weird, testosterone match the two of you had after was totally unnecessary, it was nice of you.” 

Stu tilts his head, taking in your inability to look him in the eye. A flash of genuine shyness despite what you’ve had to drink. He can imagine your thoughts, the running of different words together to make sure you don’t say anything that he could turn into something embarrassing. It’s cute. You’re all fidgety and still a little tipsy. A rush of fondness strikes him with no warning. It’s dangerous, distracting when paired with the little alcohol he did let himself drink. 

It’s too much and he’s not used to it. The feelings are a web and his mind tangles around all he could say. A mix of the obscene kind of jokes that always make you role your eyes fondly and genuine comments that all burn down to the same, general meaning: “I’d kill for you.” 

Great. The words come out at the exact second Stu recognizes the truthfulness of it. He scrambles for some kind of joke he could make to change the subject before you can think about it too much. The more you know, the more at risk you are. And this is the exact kind of slip up Billy always gives him shit about. 

You smile, either unaware of the intensity behind his words or just choosing to ignore it. “Then it’s a good thing I wouldn’t ask you to. You’re too pretty for jail.” 

Your casual acceptance makes it easy. Stu lets himself smile for just a second before letting his mouth fall open in mock hurt. “I wouldn’t get caught, babe. I’m slasher material.” You raise your eyebrows in a silent challenge. “And you’ve seen these guns.” He flexes one arm, waiting for your attention to settle on that before reaching for you with his still free hand. Your yelp is more of a laugh than anything else. “I’d be fine.” 

Stu pulls you away from the bathroom door and towards his chest. You halfheartedly fight against him, twisting your wrist back in a way that’d be more efficient if it wasn’t for your laughter. “Stu.” 

“What?” You push back, Stu’s fingers tighten just slightly. “Just proving my point, sweetheart.” Another laugh as his first hand finds your waist. “Practicing what I preach.” 

After a second of play fighting, Stu gets you close enough that there’s no point in resisting. It’s somehow farther and closer than a hug, especially when Stu angles his head downwards. 

You like the closeness more than you should. It makes your head feel too jittery, but the rest of you so warm you almost don’t mind the awful music. “This party sucks.” Stu’s eyes focus on the slight pout of your lips. “Want to go and watch a movie or something and then pretend that we stayed here until later so Billy never has to know that he was right about how much this party would suck?”  

Stu tugs on your arm, placing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Trying to get me back to your place?” You bite your tongue to avoid giggling again. The last thing he needs is encouragement. “Trying to take advantage of me? Because I promise you won’t have to work that hard at it.” 

You roll your eyes, half debating pulling away. “I’m taking back my offer.” 

“Hey--no take backs,” he squeezes your arm slightly and you resist for the sake of it, “C’mon, I’ll let you pick the movie if you sleepover.”

The offer surprises you as much as it doesn’t. Stu invites you more and more the longer his parents are out of town. He never says it, but you feel like it’s his way of keeping people around, reducing the quiet in his almost perpetually empty house. 

“Deal.” 

Hello, can I have Billy Loomis with a gn!s/o that deals with panic attacks?

A/n i promise i’m working on part 8 of final girl for anyone that’s waiting,, i just really love the series and tend to lose love for projects when i force it a little more and i really want to keep loving it so i’ve been trying to focus on smaller, less consuming fics while also balancing my attempt at writing a book! :) 

but part 8 is coming!! i promise 

anyways as far as this request goes, you’ve come to the right place bc i’ve relatively recently ended a period where my anxiety was super heightened and was having panic attacks over a lot,, so this one is for all my anxious icons 

also i wasn’t sure if you wanted headcanons or a fic,, so i’m doing both!! a few headcanons at the start and then at the end of this post there’ll be a little fic/drabble 

Billy Loomis with a s/o that deals with panic attacks headcanons: 

- He definitely gets better over time!! Like before you, he’s probably experienced bouts of anxiety (i definitely feel like he has abandonment issues and that his father makes him feel anxious) but would never think to refer to it that way or consider it that. 

- At first, he might be wary of the concept of panic attacks and might have even gone as far as to consider them some kind of ‘weakness’, but after getting closer to you, he becomes more aware of how hard it is to go through something like that. 

- He’ll make jokes about how tough you were,, and he does start to feel like it does show how strong you are, but he’ll always take it with a grain of salt. It’s not that he thinks you’re ‘weaker’ than others,, it’s just that he actually cares about you so he’s more protective.

-  In his mind, he might view you as a little ‘sensitive’, or at least more sensitive than him,, but his bar for sensitivity is extremely low. Like just knowing you’re not into murder would make you seem a little ‘sensitive’ bc of how he’s wired/his mindset. 

- This isn’t something he’s cruel about, just something he’s aware of and honestly just makes him more protective. Always being aware of where you are in social settings, not liking when you’re out alone, analyzing how people talk about/to keep them in check if you’re not the kind of person that instantly jumps to confrontation. 

- Billy isn’t always the best at expressing emotions through words, but when he cares, actually cares about someone, it’s easy to tell if you take a second to think about how he treats you because of how observant he is when someone actually matters. 

- He knows your triggers/can sense when a panic attack is about to happen better than you do. It’s a talent, the way he picks up on things and redirects in an attempt to either prevent or limit the extent of the panic attack.

- One time you had just started registering the beginning of that impending sense of doom in your stomach at a party and Billy was already guiding you out, firm yet limited contact in the form of his hand on your back. 

- Because of Billy’s family issues, he is the type to pull away from time to time for a few reasons that all connect back to him wanting to see how much you actually care about him. It’s rarely overly mean, it’s a little impulsive and subtle. Tiny comments, blowing you off from time to time if he felt like you seemed a little too close with someone else (even if it was just friendly--after all, he’s supposed to be your favorite person in all senses). But if this triggered your anxiety, he’d honestly feel guilt. 

- Okay, whether or not Billy’s capable of actual ‘guilt’ is something I go back and forth on, but with the very few people he actually cares about, especially you, he’s capable of feeling something close to ‘guilt’, only it’s a tiny bit warped in his favor. He feels bad about you going through that and feels like his actions causing it is unfortunate and he doesn’t want to hurt you, but there’s a separation between action and consequence that prevents him from feeling terribly responsible, especially if he comforts you during/after. 

- If you were to have a panic attack over him pulling away, it’d honestly feed his ego a little and calm him down. Like an ‘okay, you definitely actually care’ thing. 

- But don’t worry, Billy’s not intentionally causing panic attacks regularly! After he learns about your triggers, he teaches himself to keep his moodiness confined to them. Ideally, he’d never feel the need to pull away, but he is a serial killer with a sense of empathy that is both skewed and limited. You might be the exception to his general apathy towards most other people, but that doesn’t overcome everything. It’s not that he’s choosing to be moody and toxic from time to time, it’s instinctual. But at least he knows what the limits are and makes a conscious choice to not push past that in this case!

- Anyways,, during actual panic attacks, his ability to read your cues is extremely helpful. He can tell if you want space or some kind of reassurance before you ask, but he tries making a point of narrating what he’s doing. It’s so he doesn’t sneak up on you by accident (he’s gotten a little too good at moving in silence) and it’s an attempt to give you something else to focus on. 

- If you want reassurance, he’ll stay by your side as long as you want. Depending on the severity of the panic attack, he’ll stay even longer but never admit it’s to check in on you. 

- “I’m feeling a lot better now and I know it’s been awhile, so if you want to go to bed or something, that’s okay.” “I’m not still up for you, I wanted to watch this movie.” 

- If you want space, he’ll ‘give’ you space. Meaning that he’ll leave your side once you’re in some kind of safe space to get you a glass of water and/or meds if you need/take them. If you still want/need to be left completely alone for awhile he’ll stay outside the room you’re in, but just at the door to make sure you’re safe. 

- Honestly, he doesn’t love that arrangement. Waiting while you have a panic attack with a door between the two of you makes him feel a little uneasy (and at times a tad rejected, but he fights against that bc this is one in a few circumstances that he can at the very least rationally understand that it isn’t personal, but those intrusive thoughts don’t always listen). 

- He prefers when you let him stay around, even if you want no physical contact because just being in the same room feels like a high level of trust. 

- If you want/need physical contact, he’ll be on it in a second,, shedding any pretext of seeming clingy or his angsty persona to comfort you silently. He has a talent for knowing the right amount of contact too, knowing when you just need him to hold your hand or if you need to be pulled into a hug until you calm down. 

- Also, kind of random, but Billy for sure makes a point of noting who he believes is responsible for your panic attacks. Like if it’s over stress bc of a certain class, Billy will never forget the teacher. If it’s a result of going somewhere that a friend urged you to or someone’s mean to you, Billy will never forget them. 

- This doesn’t necessarily mean Ghostface starts calling them but he’ll find a way to “get even” in one sense or another. Maybe he’s a little meaner to them for a few days or he’ll get Stu to target jokes at them for awhile. It might be petty or crueler than that, but there will be some form of “pay back”. It doesn’t matter how accidental or innocent or vaguely connected that person was, they’ll be targeted in some way or another. 

- Another kind of random headcanon in the same vein is that if anyone ever called you dramatic or implied that you were making it up for attention or tried to make you seem/feel crazy or broken, well,, they’d get way worse than temporary meanness. That’d likely be enough for their number to end up on Ghostface’s radar. It might take some time in order to make it less suspicious, but we all know Billy’s okay with the long game when it comes to revenge!!

Here’s a little blurb of reader having a panic attack (i keep the details of the panic attack vague to avoid triggering anyone and also bc bc panic attacks can present themselves in different ways)

-----

You’re pacing again, steps less rhythmic than before. You make it from one end of the bathroom to the other in a few long strides just to come back in short, uneven steps. It’s different than when Billy first got you away from the crowded noisiness of Stu’s party, when you just sat on the rim of the tub, practically frozen with a far off look in your eye. 

Billy isn’t sure if your ever shifting pacing is an improvement to the stillness, but he decides that it’s easier to be active when you’re moving. “Careful,” he mumbles, vaguely noting your reaction, “You’re one bad move away from slipping on the bathmat.” 

You frown, the expression a little too blunt for Billy to consider it natural. But if you’re together enough to try to humor him, that’s a good enough sign for now. “I’m not gonna--” Your breath hitches, getting in the way of your words. “Gonna slip.” 

Your voice is heavy and your eyes are glassy. “That bathmat’s taken out a lot of people. Last time Stu got drunk, he ran in here and almost hit his head against the sink.” 

At your shaky, scoffed laugh, Billy pushes himself away from the wall. He takes one step towards you, making sure that it’s audible. You’re staring at the ground, body tense and breaths uneven. He notes the tension in your knuckles as your hands become fists. There’s a chance that your nails are digging into the skin of your palm and Billy resists the urge to tell you to ease up before you hurt yourself.

He learned early on that asking you to do something isn’t the best way to get it to happen when you’re feeling like this, heart racing and breathing unstable. A softer approach with firmer guiding.

Billy takes another step forward, monitoring your expression. He extends his hands slowly, hovering them over yours. You nod, the motion rigid but all the approval he needs. He covers your fists with his hands, running his thumbs over both sets of knuckles. “Let me hold your hand?” 

An almost sniffle followed by the slow unclenching of your hands. Billy wastes no time in intertwining your fingers before you can seize up again. This close, the shift of warmth all that anxiety caused is even easier to see. Your undertones are off in a way that make you look like you should be tucked into bed and downing fluids to ward off a fever. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

The question surprises you. It takes you a second to answer. “Um-nothing--nothing.” Your eyes flit from the ground to your intertwined hands and then back to the ground. “Really--I just--” You sniffle, swallowing in an attempt to fight the lump in your throat. “I can’t think, I just--” 

“That’s okay,” he says quickly, voice a little harder than he means it to be. If you think his approach is aggressive, you don’t show it. You just let your angle your chin downwards briefly in what’s meant to be a nod. “Are you feeling better?” 

It’s a bit of an obvious question. He doubts that the feelings have truly been able to diminish. You’re not in the ideal environment. Though the bathroom door dulls the loud party music, the sound is still pounding. The guest bath is also kind of small and the florescent lighting is harsh and blinding compared to the dimly lit atmosphere Billy had shuffled you out of. But you’re no longer far away, divided from him and taken to that place in your head that he can never follow you to. 

“A little,” your words are hushed, hollow. “It just--there’s this feeling in my chest and it--it won’t go away.” 

Billy squeezes your hands briefly, a small pulse of warmth in an attempt to anchor you. “I know.” Your eyes are tearing up again, watery and red rimmed. “We’ll go to your place. You’ll feel better when you’re home, okay?” When you say nothing, he continues, “I’ll tuck you in, we can watch a movie if you want.” You nod again, the motion uneasy. “Your pick.” 

Your eyes meet his at that. The thought fills you with more warmth than you thought possible. It doesn’t melt away that impending sense of doom and dread that’s burrowed itself deeply into your chest, but it gives you something to hold onto. A light at the end of frightening tunnel. 

And then, the guilt sinks in. You’re dragging him away from his best friend’s parties. Sure, Stu does this pretty regularly and more often than not Billy’s happy to turn away early, but you’re taking away his ability to choose. “You know-the--the water helped. If you wanna...” You don’t want him to stay, you don’t want him to leave your side. Not now. Maybe never again. “I know that this is Stu’s party, so...” 

“Stu doesn’t care,” the defense comes out quick, “And if he did, he wouldn’t notice because he’s completely out of it. You saw him.” You don’t ease, so Billy continues, “And if he did, it wouldn’t matter.” 

The words take their time sinking in. “I--” You can’t get the words out. It all feels so dumb now and that overwhelming feeling hasn’t dislodged itself from your chest and you can’t think straight. You’ve had this conversation before--you always feel a little bad when this happens at times like this and then that allows your thoughts to spiral. Thoughts on how much better off he’d be if you weren’t here. 

He lifts your left hand to his lips, softly kissing your knuckles. “You know I--” Billy pauses, taking in the way your eyes widen. “You’re it for me.” The words are sandpaper, but the way you look at him makes it worth it. “And, you know not everything’s about you.” Your eyebrows pull together and Billy continues, “I want to go.” 

You nod, pulling one hand away to wipe the back of your palm across your face. “Okay.” You glance at your expression in the mirror and consider splashing some water on your face. It’d help how you look, but the party is so dimly lit and everyone’s caught up in their own world. “I’m ready.” 

Billy gently pulls on your hand, keeping you close as he unlocks the bathroom door.