Hi! This Isnt Really An Ask As Much As Its A Rant About How Much I Love The New Chapter Of Final Girl

Hi! This isn’t really an ask as much as it’s a rant about how much I love the new chapter of “Final Girl” . YOU’RE AMAZING! seeing the mental affects this has all had her was so realistic, it felt like I could personally feel that distance in herself she feels it’s amazing and heartbreaking, I feel so bad for my baby :(. And like you said the boys having the AUDACITY to be shocked that she’s traumatized like THEY DIDNT TRAUMATIZE HER LIKE “Yeah I pushed you off the bridge, but I didn’t expect you to 𝘈𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺? :(” LIKEE???NO FUCK SHES NOT OKAY, YOU GUTTED HER FRIEND AND TORMENTED HER, REMEMBER?.

And gale putting her in the book just reminded me of all the conflicting feelings I have about her character in general like I love her she’s an icon, but at the same time after six movies of her disregarding the victims of ghosts face it’s really getting annoying how her character is always knocking down victims of ghosts face for money like she doesn’t have enough of it, she does it with total disregard to them.she doesn’t pay them,she doesn’t n ask them,she doesn’t even apologize like ever and with knowing all that I don’t know why I didn’t think she would exploit the mc but either way it goes I’m FUMING I adore gale and all but she’s doing my girl dirty and I’m really starting to hope she doesn’t make it to end.

Anyways all that aside THEY WERE SO TENDER THIS CHAPTER IT WAS SO SWEET THEIR DYNAMIC TOGETHER IS SO AHHHHHHHHHHHH, I’ve missed them all so much I’m gonna be sick😭, though I don’t like how gales playing my girl the up side is that ensures more protective billy and Stu (and probably a fight, maybe not a fight this time but I’ve noticed that when things get bad for her they get real pushy and she get real distant (rightfully so) and causes problems cause they’re all so insecure but that’s beside the point, fall outs mean make ups and I love those)

Any ways I realize that this is really long and I don’t expect you to read all of this but basically all I’m say is I LOVE YOU, I LOVE FINAL GIRL, AND I LOVE THEM BYE💛

omg i love you 😭 i wanted to take my time to let this absorb before responding bc of how incredibly sweet this is!

first off always feel free to rant in my asks! i love when people send me messages (especially when it's about something i wrote bc it means so much that someone read it and cared enough to say something), no matter the length and most definitely read everything! also i have never been brief about anything in my life so it would be illegal for me to judge

also i'm so happy you picked up on the psychological elements! i feel like there's so much hinted at in each ghostface, but especially billy and stu, especially their dynamic with billy having a bit of a motive and stu being presented as just having gone along with it a little more, so i try to stay true to that if nothing else, also psychology is like my second passion (i was a psych major for two days before deciding that i loved writing more) so i like to explore that side of things and i'm glad it comes across!

and yes i just had to make a joke about the way they were shocked 😭 like i'm sure the two of them could have been smart enough to think since we like y/n, maybe we just shouldn't involve her in anything ghostface related, it also has nothing to do with her bc she just moved here and has literally no context on anything! but they're a little delusional and had to give into the impulsive, and they basically made her the main character of their horror movie 😌 so it wasn't too mean, right

also you perfectly captured how i feel about gale! like she is my icon, i love her, but if i was in the scream universe i'd be so over her, ESPECIALLY if i was one of the victims, like you're going to profit off of my trauma and not even cut me a check? but she's also multi-faceted and does have her moments where she shows that she cares about people, and no spoilers, but y/n's going to have a connection/relationship with gale and it will be one of the most complicated and trying ones of y/n's life and that's saying something considering the billy and stu situation 😭

gale is also about to bring some drama! a bit of an emotional peak that i won't get into on here bc spoilers

anyways thank you sm for reading final girl and now i've rambled a bit so feel free to not read all of this lol 💗

Resurgence

A/n this is a product of me going with the flow to get rid of some writer’s block, i originally wanted to write a jason x reader story but this became much more background heavy and turned into something else so i’m thinking maybe mini series! some found family vibes, idk though

Summary: After an impulsive attempt to run away with your best friend ends in an accident that alters everything about you (literally--like on a genetic level), you’re pushed into the Titan’s world. 

----

Earlier. 

I know it’s too early for total cynicism, but the note Jenna left out on the counter doesn’t allow for much else. A passive aggressive, vague scribbling reminding me that just because we went to bed and woke up doesn’t mean the fight is over. The note is taped to a box of cereal because she’s pointedly reminding me that there’s a reason she’s not here making me breakfast. Whatever. 

I pour myself a bowl before pulling open the door to the fridge. The nearly empty carton of milk is expired. Perfect.

My phone starts to buzz before I can get rid of souring milk. Violet’s contact name and picture takes up my screen as I pick up the device. “Hey.” 

“Do you remember yesterday? When you were talking about just getting in a car and driving anywhere and everywhere and never looking back?”

Intense way to start a before 8AM call. “Weird conversation starter... but yeah.” 

She sighs, the sound a puff of air into my receiver. “I took my step dad’s car, I’m about to pass your house, do you want to come with me?” 

Oh my god. She’s lost it. “Are you insane?” 

“Do you want to get out of here or not?” 

My eyes fall to the skirt of my uniform and then to Jenna’s note. Memories of last night’s argument hit with no warning. “Let’s go.” 

----

Present.

There’s light and then I’m plunged back into darkness. A nothingness that I can feel. A nothingness that aches. Get up. Get up. Get-- 

My body won’t move. I latch onto the only thing I can, the faint prickle of light from behind my eyes. It’s kind of...irritating. And I can hear a strange, flat ringing. I screw my eyes shut tighter, a touch of mobility returning. Slowly, enough of it comes back for me to open my eyes. 

Okay. I’m staring at a roof. Not at the sky...and not at Violet’s...The thought brings me back to the pain in my body. Everything is sore, but I’m resting somewhere that should be comfortable. A bed, not the side of the road...not the last place I remember. 

Wait--where am I? I sit up fully, the buzzing noise turns into a sporadic mess of beeping. Each bump of noise feels like it’s striking me in the head. My hands stretch forward to rub my face. The movement feels like mush and restrained. 

My eyes drop to my arms. There’s a tube sticking out of my arm, an object I vaguely register as an IV. A few other wires are sticking out from me, including a tube in my nose. Okay--this is getting weird. I sit up a little more before twisting my fingers around the oxygen tube. 

“I wouldn’t--” My body presses as far back into the cot as I physically can before snapping my head forward. There’s a guy standing next to one of two chairs lined neatly against a wall. “I don’t think you should touch that.” 

Has he been here the entire time? And--and what is ‘the entire time’? How long has it been since Violet? 

The question claws its way all the way to the tip of my tongue. I clamp my mouth shut to keep from asking it because I already know. After what I saw...what I felt...I know the answer. No one gets put back together after going through what happened to Violet and the last thing I want right now is to get into it with a stranger who may or may not be a danger. Speaking it into the world feels too real, too solid a vulnerability. 

All I can do is stare at the stranger. His neat brown hair and put together posture seem mature enough that he could be a doctor if I’m going with the assumption that this is a hospital, but that doesn’t feel right. He’s not wearing a lab coat and his clothing feels a little too casual. He also feels a little too young to have finished med school. 

“...You’re not a doctor.” 

He takes my analysis well, tilting his chin down quickly in some sort of nod. “No.” The stranger takes a small step forward, more of a shift in my direction. “What do--do you know where you are? Do you remember anything?” 

The question is a jab to already bruised ribs. Do I remember? Remember the car that came out of nowhere, that started chasing us at the gas station; the box Jenna pulled out from under the seats; the electric feeling of that liquid in my veins; waking up again and seeing the wreckage, seeing Jenna... 

I swallow it all down, eyeing the stranger a little more cautiously. The urgency is weird. There are only so many reasons for a stranger to be in a hospital room with me. There’s a small chance he’s just some kind of good samaritan, who found me bleeding out somehow. He could also be with the people from the car or--or something else. Something bigger. 

“Why do you care?” The words feel too raspy to have any real bite. “Actually, a better question--who even are you?” 

His eyebrows draw together briefly, almost reluctantly. “I’m Dick Grayson.” 

It’s a patient introduction, not exactly soft but politer than I expected. I don’t know what the appropriate reaction is, so I just nod. 

Something about the way he’s lingering tells me that this strange interaction hasn’t been enough for him. Dick is going to push his questions or ask something else or maybe even justify his presence, but before he gets to do any of that, the door is pushed open. 

A woman in a lab coat doesn’t even throw a curious glance in Dick’s direction. Does that indicate that he’s been in here for awhile? Or--or did he tell the hospital we’re in that I know him somehow? 

“Okay,” the doctor hums, extending the last syllable as she glances at a clipboard, “You’re looking a lot better after the scare you gave us.” Her eyes shift away from my chart and towards the heart monitor that’s now beeping steadily, “Hm. That last alert must have been some kind of system error.” 

Whatever that means. “Uh--scare?” 

She presses her lips together, briefly turning her attention back to the clip board. “You were rushed into treatment, your body has experienced significant trauma.” The doctor pauses to take a breath, “Maybe this would be better discussed later. With a parent.” 

“What happened after...the accident?” She still seems unsure. “Please.” 

The doctor lets out a hesitant sigh, “During your treatment, your heart briefly stopped.” I--I flatlined? “But after you restabilized, there were no further complications and you seem well on your way to making a full recovery.” I nod blankly. “Is there anyone we should call for you?” Ugh. Jenna’s so going to kill me. “Could you use a minute first?” 

“A minute sounds like a good idea.” Whoever Dick Grayson is, he has no issue over inserting himself. 

The doctor nods, being suspiciously unsuspicious of the random guy, “Alright, I’ll be back.” 

She leaves; Dick doesn’t. I turn my arm over, staring at the IV in my arm. Maybe if I’m quiet enough, he’ll leave. 

“You remember the accident.” Guess the assumption that he’d just leave was an optimistic one. 

My fingers twist the thin fabric of the hospital blanket. “Did you find me or something?” 

Dick pauses, thinking about the best way to answer what must feel like a fragile question. “Or something.” Weird. “That car you were in, it wasn’t yours.” 

Great, now I’m not only going to have to tell Violet’s parents what happened to her, I’m also going to get arrested for stealing a car. “No.” 

The confession has no affect on him. He seemed sure enough in his assumption, so maybe he already decided my answer wouldn’t matter. “Did you know what was in the car?” 

There’s a generalness in the question that I could use to my advantage--should use to my advantage--but the memories resurfacing make all rational thought impossible. The stuff in the car is what got me here. 

“No,” the answer is more honest than I should be, “Not until after.” 

His eyebrows pinch together, a hint of something less stoic bleeding into his expression. Maybe a touch of empathy. It’s not overbearing or much, but the shift is enough to make me feel exposed. Too exposed for some guy who I met through a hospital room and has only given me his name. A part of me wishes my phone was on me--a google search could potentially help. 

I flatten my hands on my lap. “How do you know about the car?” The last people that knew about the weird fluid rammed themselves into a car until it flipped off a bridge. He could easily be working for them--some nice enough looking guy to make sure I woke up without freaking out and alerting anyone.

“I’m not with them.” Dick provides his defense stiffly, like he’s aware of its lack of strength. 

The call button is only inches away from my hand. “Right, ‘cause the people that used a car to push my car off a bridge are for sure above lying.” 

He takes another mini-step forward. “I’m actually trying to help you.” 

Another thing he can’t prove. “Then tell me how you know about the blue stuff.” 

Dick tries to suppress a sigh. I can’t tell if he was working under the assumption that I’d just wake up and happily go along with whatever. “...Because I’ve been looking for it.” 

“That’s not sketchy at all.”

Something else tugs at his expression that’s different than before. Not pity or an apology, more like a general acknowledgement of how weird he’s being. “I saw the accident.” The words hit harder than they should considering the lack of meanness. “One of the vials was missing.” 

Right before the accident, I opened the small box to see what Violet was talking about. I took one of the vials out to examine it and then the car flipped. “So you have the other vials?”

My question isn’t appreciated. “Do you know what happened after the accident?” The first few minutes, I was still awake. Conscious enough to crawl my way out of the car, but everything after that is stuck behind a dark wall. He takes my silence as an answer. “The battery was completely fried, but the engine was still running.” 

That’s a fun fact? “Uh--cool?” I never did ask him anything that would reveal how mentally well he is. “I must have missed that while trying to crawl out of it before it exploded or something.” 

“I didn’t--” The corner of my mouth turns up a little at his slight unease. I wasn’t sarcastic with the intention of being mean or making the stranger uncomfortable, but I’m not exactly mad it happened. He seems to catch onto the fact that I’m only giving him a hard time because I can. “Cars need batteries to run.” 

Dick’s eyes stay trained on me after those words, analyzing my reaction to them. My first instinct is to dismiss it. I can’t imagine that car ever being fixed and car batteries are replaceable. That’s the least of its issues. Then it hits me--how was the engine running? “Oh.” He’s still watching. Why? “...What does a car have to do with me?” 

“The people that are looking for the vials are dangerous.” I lift an arm to gesture to my IV, a quiet way of saying no shit. “They’re going to come back.” 

My stomach knots at that. It’s not like I necessarily thought this was all over, but I hadn’t considered what could happen next. “I don’t have the missing vial.” As far as I know, he’s no one important, but the urge to get him to believe me hits hard and fast. “It probably fell and--and shattered or something.” 

His expression doesn’t give me anything to work with. “If you come with me, I can test if it had any effects on you--”

Okay, I know a kidnapping scam when I see one. “You’re kidding, right?” He keeps his blankness, his posture somehow straighter than it was before. Dick’s radiating a sense of authority that’s definitely practiced. “Are you asking or telling?” 

“I’m trying to help.”

“And if I don’t want your help because there’s no way some weird, lab goo did anything to me?” My hand shifts forward, reaching for the remote with the help button. “You seem nice enough, thank you for not leaving me to die in some underpass, but I think it’s time you go. Good luck with your goo situation.” 

Dick’s eyes drop down to my hand. In about two steps, he’s at the side of my bed. “Don’t.” 

I’ve never wanted to press a button more in my life. My thumb finds the trigger, but before I can press it, a strong grip secures itself around my wrist. He moved so quickly, I’m still registering the fact that he went to grab me. Who is this guy?

Before I can warn him that I have nothing against screaming bloody murder until someone separates us, I’m snapped out of my thoughts. My body feels disconnected, like it’s floating. 

A light flickers behind my eyes, glazing over my vision. Some strong, hard to name thing pulls at my stomach, an even stronger feeling settles in my chest. That one is easier to listen to as something flickers to the front of my mind like a hazy memory or unfinished dream. I can’t tell what it is, but my body knows to trust it. To believe it. Do I know him? 

The feeling is so close to familiarity that it feels like a physical hit. My fingers go slack, and the remote slips from my grasp and onto the cot. He lets go and moves back into place immediately. 

I know that deciding whether or not to let some random guy run some sort of test on me cannot be a choice so influenced by a vibe. But what I saw has drained most of the fight from me. Maybe it’s a side effect of the car accident. Like some type of internal bleeding? 

“Sorry, I don’t--” 

“You want to run some tests on me or--?” It’s more of a summary for me than a direct question for him. Ugh. Maybe if he had asked for anything less weird...then again, I can’t think of anything that wouldn’t be weird from a stranger that’s just in my hospital room. “How do you even know about this?” 

He hesitates, “Long story.” 

Helpful. I guess it is kind of comforting that he’s this bad at getting me to want to come with him, because no respectable kidnapper would be this openly weird. And that instinct is still at the back of my mind, urging me to trust him. “You get that you’re super sketchy, right?” If this is some kind of trap, I deserve what I’m going to get. “If I agree, can I borrow a phone to call someone?” Grabbing my phone wasn’t a priority when I crawled out of that car, and I really doubt it somehow miraculously made its way to the hospital with me. 

“Parents?” 

Jenna’s so gonna kill me. “Sort of.” I’m not in the mood to get into my living situation, so I just stare at my sheets before he can ask. “What? You’re the only that gets to be cryptic?” The attempt at humor surprises me. He’s still a stranger, but my head isn’t accepting that. 

“You can call them.” 

“Then...okay.” I’m going to end up on dateline and my episode will be so boring some girl with a true crime podcast will skip my episode. “But if you’re some kidnapping serial killer, I will fuck you up.” 

The corner of his mouth turns up a bit, like something about what I said is amusing him. Kind of rude, considering that I’m being completely serious, but I can’t decide if that makes me feel better or worse about my decision. 

----

This might be one of the nicest buildings I’ve ever stepped foot in. It’s not like the building Dick’s led me to is overly extravagant, but it’s definitely structured in a way that feels well off. Like it’s owned by the kind of rich person that’s so wealthy they don’t feel the need to prove it. 

“Dude,” I give myself a second to take in the space, “If you had led with how nice this place is, we could’ve skipped the whole hospital argument.” 

My presence here feels a little bit like a smudge. It’s not like I’m always put together or feel like I should be overly dressed up, but the hospital gave me back what I was wearing during the accident. Because Violet decided to runaway before school, I left the house in my uniform. It’s not the cruelest thing I’ve seen a Catholic school put someone in, but the plaid skirt and white button down don’t do much for my confidence, and they didn’t exactly hold up in the chaos of the accident...neither did my hair or face. 

“Really?”

I shrug, still looking around the space, “It definitely wouldn’t have hurt.” Tugging on the dirt smeared edge of my sleeve,  I turn back to him. “I’m Y/n, by the way.” It’s not information I really wanted to give, but I’m already here. It’s not like he can double kidnap me if that’s what this is, and knowing who I am won’t change anything. If he tries to use me for ransom all he’ll be able to get from Jenna is an IOU. “Felt weird that I hadn’t said that yet.” 

The car accident must have seriously damaged my self preservation abilities, or maybe it’s the fact that anything I can latch onto is a distraction from Violet, because I step further into the room, fully entering the space and seeing the full living room. 

Two heads on the side of the couch that I couldn’t see before snap towards me so quickly it almost feels like they moved in sync. The one farthest from me has a dark purple bob and the boy next to her has green hair. The stare off is a little weird and refuels my doubts. They both look a lot closer to my age than Dick’s. 

The girl breaks the silence, “Who’s this?” 

I’m not sure if that’s a question directed at me or Dick, but I answer anyway, “I--” 

“You wanted to call someone, right?” Dick steps up so that he’s next to me, handing me an unlocked cell phone. 

Weird place to jump in, but at least he isn’t being cagey and taking away my ability to contact someone. “Yeah.” I take the phone, already dreading this conversation. “Could I get some water?” 

“Kitchen’s that way, take whatever you want.” Looking through a rich guy’s fridge might take the sting out of being berated by Jenna. 

I start walking in the direction he gestured towards. “Cool.” 

After finding the kitchen, I dial Jenna’s number. She answers on the second ring. “Okay--don’t freak out.” 

“Where the fuck are you? Were you kidnapped?” 

“One, that sounds like freaking out. Two, why are you always assuming I’ve been kidnapped?” 

She sighs before getting my name out in a way that tells me to not mess with her right now. That makes me cut to the chase, summarizing majority of what happened and glossing over what I can’t get out or explain. She gets extra mad when I tell her that I followed a stranger home just because they said they found me. Jenna rightfully yells at me, and then finally asks me where I am. 

The realization that I have no clue makes me feel a lot worse about the situation. I paid extra attention on the drive here, but no part of this felt like any part of Gotham I’ve ever been to. Maybe it’s because it’s a richer area? 

I duck my head back into the living room, “Hey, Dick?” He looks up from the two in the living room, who I guess he was giving some context to. “I’m on the phone and someone wants to pick me up. Where are--” Jenna cuts me off in that way of hers, reminding me how much I suck at giving directions. “Uh--she wants to talk to you.” 

His eyebrows draw together, “Your mom?” 

Shrugging, I start walking towards him. “Uh--my Jenna,” I hold the phone out towards him, “That’s like having a mom, just...louder.” He eyes the phone oddly. “You’ll see.” He’ll have to, Jenna gets her way. 

Dick takes the phone, instantly catching on to what I meant and stepping away to talk to her. He throws out the part of stolen car, which would have been nice for him to keep to himself. Then he says...San Francisco, which makes no sense to me because Violet and I were nowhere near California. That’s where she wanted to go, but we barely made it out of Gotham before it all happened. 

I blink, sitting down on the couch in shock. My head then turns to the boy next to me, “Hi, I’m Y/n.” 

After a second, he smiles politely and says, “Gar.” 

“Nice to meet you,” a little awkward, but he’s looking at me so politely I can’t help but fall back on normal habits, “Are we not in Gotham?” 

He briefly looks confused and then a little apologetic, “No.” 

Great, I’m brain damaged. That’s the only logical explanation for how I got to San Francisco without even realizing it. “...Cool.” 

The girl sits up a little more, looking over at me, “Are you okay?” 

“Uh,” all of my potential answers make me sound insane, “I’ve been better.” 

Dick’s conversation with Jenna seems to be getting calmer, which bugs me a little. I can’t explain it, it’s just suspicious that he’s not only this super upstanding guy that helped me get to and from the hospital, he’s also capable of getting Jenna on his side. He ends the call. 

Before he can give any kind of update, I’m already up, “How am I not in Gotham?” I don’t give him the chance to answer. “You said you saw the accident, so that means you got me here.” 

“No.” I wonder how quickly I could get out of here. My body’s still sore, but pain’s something to worry about later. “I--exaggerated on how much I saw.” 

He’s not exactly helping himself, “So you've been lying this entire time.” 

“I didn’t want to scare you.” 

That sounds like something a kidnapper would be worried about. Panic rises in my chest and the room feels too hot, too charged. The lights briefly waver and that only adds to my stress. “Then how did I get here?” 

Dick’s looking at me the same way he did in the hospital. A hesitant sort of empathy. It’s restrained, but it feels so genuine that my stomach twists. If he’s not the one that dragged me here, then that means that--and how much time did I lose? 

It feels too naive to believe him just because of a look, but that would explain a lot. If he had seen the accident, he would have had more questions. He probably would have mentioned Violet. “How’d you find me? And--and why’d you say that stuff about the car battery?” 

“They had you, and the battery thing was a little different than what I said.” The confirmation is a punch to the gut. How long was I out? What did they do to me? Why did they take me when they had the vials? “Jenna’s flying out first thing tomorrow.” I must look like I’m about to snap, because he’s making a point of keeping his words even and slow. I don’t know how she’s going to fly out considering she maxed out her credit card trying to buy concert tickets. “We can get you something more comfortable to wear and something to eat before we get into anything else.”

He’s just trying to be nice, understanding, but it makes me feel too much like a little kid. Especially since there are two people around my age watching this play out. There’s still a chance this is some kind of trap, but it’s a little too late to decide if I trust him. I give in with a reluctant nod.

----

The shower pressure I just experienced is something that I can’t see myself forgetting. Before I walked into the bathroom the girl, who I learned is named Rachel, brought me something comfortable. Some elastic pajama pants and a black crewneck.

I don’t know how much of it is Rachel being genuine or if Dick told her to hang around a little, but she showed up a little after I got out of the shower and took me to a guest bedroom so I could put away my clothes. She then walked me to the kitchen, awkwardly admitted that they’re overdue for a grocery run before giving me some options. 

Rachel ends up making me a grilled cheese. It’s a little awkward letting a stranger do something for me, but it’d feel even weirder casually using an unfamiliar kitchen like I live here. 

My hunger felt all consuming until food was put in front of me. I keep thinking of Violet and all the hours I lost. But rationally, I know I should eat something and that it’d be kind of rude not to, so I take small bites of the edge of my sandwich. 

I’m still working on the first triangular half when Gar shows up, offering me another polite smile. I force myself to return it even though the day’s starting to catch up with me. 

“Uh-hey,” he walks into the kitchen, “I know I introduced myself earlier, but that was...” Gar brushes that train of thought away with a small breath, “Uh--are you feeling better?”  

I nod, turning to face him, “The shower helped.” I set my half of the grilled cheese down, “I picked so many twigs out of my hair.” Why would I say that? 

“Yeah, you look a little better.” He reaches the counter, tapping his fingers on the counter, “Not that you looked bad before! Just that you look like you’re feeling a little better.” 

The correction comes out like a knee-jerk reaction. Like he really thought he might have offended me. “I get it,” I can’t help but smile a little, “And absolutely no worries if you had meant it the other way, I saw myself in the mirror. I definitely looked accurate to my car accident.” I thought mentioning the car accident casually would make it feel breezy and normal, but it just feels sad. “There’s no non-weird way to say that.” 

“It’s fine.” Gar’s words come out so assured I almost believe him, “We’ve heard weirder.” 

Rachel nods, “A lot weirder.” 

I look between the two of them before taking another bite out of my grilled cheese. They’re both looking at me while trying to pretend that they’re doing something else. I guess I know how my 4th grade class guinea pig felt. 

A part of me wants to start conversation. Some of it is the awkward feel of silence and some of it is the urge to return their niceness, but I’m also tired and not sure how much of a point there is. Tomorrow, I’ll be back home and likely permanently grounded. 

“Do you feel like we’re hovering?” Rachel’s question takes me by surprise. Before I can instinctually tell them that they’re both fine, she continues, “We can give you some space if you want. I know it’s a little overwhelming.” 

What is? Showing up here? The accident? It shouldn’t matter considering that I’m leaving tomorrow. “Some quiet might be nice,” I admit, “Just because Dick’s probably going to show up and get me to--” He never did specify what he was going to check out about me. Do they know that’s why I’m here? Also--why are they here? “I don’t even know. Just something I’m not really looking forward to.”

“We get it,” Rachel hums, stepping away from the counter, “We’ll give you a minute.” 

The two actually leave, a part of me is surprised at how genuine that was. They didn’t even linger like I might at best steal something and at worse finally snap. I get two minutes of quiet before the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen puts me back into focus mode. 

I tilt my head slightly, expecting Rachel or Gar or maybe even Dick. It’s...none of them. The person I don’t know walks straight past me and towards the fridge. They open it, the small light illuminating their skin in a way that makes the sheen of sweat impossible to ignore.

He pulls out a bottle of water, shuts the door, and then looks at me. There’s no hint of surprise as his eyes briefly focus on my face before trailing downwards. Is he-- “Something happen to your face?” 

This again. Stupid car accident had to bust my lip and bruise my face. “Uh--” While Rachel and Gar were attentive and purposefully polite, trying to apply regular social standards to an abnormal situation, this guy doesn’t seem to care about that at all. The thought of just blankly stating the car accident thing again, especially to someone this forward, is so unappealing I just blurt out, “Drug deal gone wrong.” 

Oh my god, the more I interact with people, the more I realize there has to be something seriously wrong with me. Like brain damage. Like over-40-pro-football player lever of concussed. 

Before I can say anything, he tilts his head again, looking me over more openly than before, "Right, because you seem the type.” 

I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me or amused. Probably the first one. “The best drug dealers don’t seem like drug dealers.” 

“Really?” There’s a level of kind-of-there annoyance that throws me. Like irritated is his natural state and it’s miracle enough that I didn’t make it worse. But the confidence in his voice keeps it from being fully bitter. 

“No,” I tap my nails on the counter, “I just didn’t feel like getting into the car accident thing again.” 

He’s quiet for a second, “And you thought drug deals would be easier?” 

I shrug, feeling a little smaller. I can’t tell if I can’t stand him or think he’s a little funny. “Must be an early sign of brain damage.”

He tilts his water bottle in a vague gesture towards my face. “I’d believe it.” 

Rude. I know I just said it, but still. “At least I have an excuse.” 

His eyebrows draw together in offense, and it doesn’t make me feel great. He wasn’t that bad and that was sort of a jump, but I’ll probably never see him again, so... 

“What’s your--” 

Before he can get into any sort of rant, a voice cuts him off, “Jason.” Oh, it’s Dick. I turn my head enough to catch his tense look. “Leave her alone.” 

“She started it.” 

Okay, yeah, I think he annoys me more than I find him funny. “Nice come back,” I mumble, pushing away from the counter, “What are you? 12?” 

“If you want to find out--” 

Ah. I’ve been through too much today for this. "Like that line’s ever worked.” 

He isn’t swayed by my reaction, “Trust me, I don’t need--” 

“Okay,” Dick inserts himself into the conversation, and a part of me is glad for the excuse to leave. “Enough.” He then looks at me, “Are you ready?” 

At least it’ll be over soon. “As long as you don’t tell me that stuff turned me part alien or whatever.” 

He draws his eyebrows together, “Part alien?” 

“So magical science goo is real, but my thing’s unrealistic.” 

GUESS WHO’S SEEING TAYLOR TODAY !

never been an unattractive person under that mask, i’m just saying

If ghostface comes into my house to kill me, I will be screaming but not out of fear

Final Girl - Part 9

Final girl Masterlist (all parts in order and extra fics, updated parts 1 - 9)

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

Chapter Summary: Nightmares aren’t that bad when you’re sleeping over at Stu’s house. Too bad no amount of late night movie watching and hot chocolate can cure a bad case of being on Gale Weathers’s radar. 

----

The light glints off the knife’s edge so sharply the entire thing warps. The blade looks longer, then smaller, then larger. It changes with each movement of the person holding so much it’s fascinating, almost like a cartoon. 

For a second it feels like it’s just that. Like I’m watching Scooby Doo or Nancy Drew or some other kids’ mystery show. Then the knife comes down. 

I scream, snapping into the moment as I start running. Everything’s hazy, I can barely register how unfamiliar this place is. Branches are tugging on what I’m wearing, scratching at my face, but I can’t feel them. All I feel is the blood rushing in my ears. 

Something cold and sharp digs into my shoulders. I’m thrashing, but it doesn’t matter. It’s too late. My attacker forces me to turn. It’s him--the too familiar white mask, the permanent scream. 

He lifts his knife and forces it down. My eyes shut as the blade meets my chest. The pain is a barely there flicker. It’s being drowned out by a tingling sensation that’s taking over my entire body. The feeling disconnects me from it all until my vision fades to black. 

Reality returns quickly. My body is laying on something soft, my face pressed into something cushioned. 

“No, don’t--” The words come out so tight I almost don’t recognize the voice. Billy. 

My head snaps up. The dimly lit space looks like it should be Stu’s living room but something about it feels off. Like everything’s been flipped or something. I don’t see Billy until my mind reconnects the dots and refocuses.

He’s standing with his hands held out cautiously. His back is to me but I can feel his tension. Swallowing back my panic, I force myself to look in the same direction as Billy. That damn mask. Ghostface. 

“Billy...” It’s a shaky whisper and I don’t know what I expect from it.

The helplessness washes through me. My eyes drop down, but that makes everything worse. 

There’s a thick puddle staining the hardwood floors reflecting the low light of the room. It leads to a pale arm that leads to a shoulder that leads to what--oh. The realization that the mess of glistening red used to be a chest sends a sharp wave of nausea through me.

My gaze shifts up, catching eyes that should be familiar but are too hollow, too blank as they stare up at nothing. Stu. 

I scream, my entire body shaking with the urge to get closer like that’d mean something. There’s another sound, some kind of grunt or cry--I don’t--I don’t know--and then Billy falls. First to his knees before slumping over. He lands on his side...next to Stu. 

The killer looks up at me with a tilt of their head, they walk over my friends, but they don’t--they--

----

When the darkness of the room washes over me, I’m already sitting up. Not real. Not real. Not real. The tightness in my chest doesn’t go away and a type of sickness that hurts stays in my upper stomach. 

I can hear myself panting, but I don’t feel the relief of air entering my lungs. My hand stretches over tangled sheets, a part of me trying to stabilize myself. Maybe that will make the nausea go aw--no. 

I’m on my feet in a second, crossing the room to get to the door. Autopilot leads me to the bathroom. Wait--this isn’t my house--I fell asleep at Stu’s. They were both here--so where are they now?

My nausea spikes. I gag, moving instinctually onto my knees. 

“Hey.” The voice feels far, I can’t grasp onto it. “Hey,” a warm touch on my back as my hair is pulled back. “You’re okay, angel.” 

Oh. I try to breathe through my disorientation as I turn my head. “Stu?” 

The amount of nerves in my voice must throw him off but I can’t make out too much of his expression in the dark. Just as the thought settles, the light flickers on and my eyes are squinting to adjust. 

Stu moves to stand and keeps a hand on my arm to encourage me to do the same. I’m so stiff and the world is so hazy I don’t think, just follow. The same thing happens as Stu sort of extends me so that I’m in front of the sink. 

Another arm is in front of me, holding a tiny cup between two fingers. The liquid is a sharp green. I take the cup before I really know what I’m doing. It smells like the heavy kind of mint that belongs in a dentist’s office. 

I bring it to my lips and swish the mouthwash around for longer than I normally would before turning on the sink and rinsing. Such a small thing shouldn’t make that much of a difference but getting rid of the taste of acidic bile in my mouth clears my head enough to let me think. 

My head turns in the direction of the arm. “Billy.” 

Something clues him into my confusion. It could be the way I said his name or the way I’m just staring like he’s some sort of ghost. He’s trying to figure it out, or maybe he’s trying to piece together a reaction that’s appropriate when someone’s staring this much.

“Hey,” it’s said a little unsurely, “You’re okay. You’re--” His hand finds its way onto my upper back, moving in that circular motion that’s become familiar. It’s enough to let me feel okay about looking towards Stu again.

“You guys are--” I can’t get the words out, can’t figure out how to explain it. “You’re--you’re okay.” I can feel the shakiness in my voice but I can’t bring myself to fix it. 

Again, instinct takes over and I pull Stu into a hug. He has to be surprised but he doesn’t hesitate to squeeze me back just as tightly. Billy stays close, his hand still on my back. 

They’re both here, still warm and breathing and here. The relief is too much and it joins a flurry of other feelings. 

I pull my head off of Stu, “Where were you guys?” I know that anger’s irrational, there are hundreds of reasons they could have both been up, especially since we didn’t fall asleep too late, but I can’t help the panic hiding as aggression in my tone. I try to pull further away, but Stu doesn’t let me. “I woke up and you guys weren’t there and I thought--” I’m not even sure if what I’m saying makes sense, but it’s coming up the same way the bile did, “You can’t do that--you--you left. You can’t just leave.” 

“No one’s leaving.” Billy’s voice lacks the defensiveness I expect. “We were just downstairs. I couldn’t sleep so I went to get some water and Stu woke up, and you know how that is.” The attempt at a joke is appreciated, but I can’t bring myself to show it. 

Normally, Stu not letting go when I try to push him off bothers me, but now I’m kind of glad he didn’t let me get too far. Something about having them this close is grounding. They’re okay. 

“Yeah,” Stu hums, “Who’d leave you?” He says it so casually, so assured, like the thought of going somewhere would have never crossed his mind if I hadn’t said that. 

It’s assuring in a different way, not quite getting at all of my panic. “I had a dream that--” The longer I’m awake, the more aware I am of how unnormal I’m being. That doesn’t mean I can stop it. “It was--it was so real, and then I woke up and you--” 

They’re being quiet. I know that I’m being a lot and they’re probably still trying to figure out how to react to my panic, but it’s making me antsy. If they’d joke or tease me about this, I’d be able to convince myself that I haven’t fully lost it.

Billy smooths my hair back carefully. “We’re okay,” his voice is low, a little tight. “Everyone’s okay.”

I nod once, trying to convince myself that his certainty is my own. “In my dream--you guys ended up like--” It’s hard enough to mention her when I’m well rested and feeling together. “Like Casey.” 

“That’s not going to happen.” Stu’s hold on me goes from fully relaxed to a little firmer.

Argument and doubt immediately bubble up. No one counts on dying. Casey was in her house. I got a call from the killer while home and they knew that Billy was locked out. The cops are still so lost Dewey wants to meet with me again to go over some details. There’s no reason for the killer to just go away...and from what they said the last time we talked, they’re not planning on it. 

Stu places a hand on the side of my head, angling me closer with no warning. He places a quick kiss against my temple. I nearly jump before realizing what just happened. That was such a Stu reaction I can’t help but smile a little, even though I shouldn’t encourage him. “You’re cute when you’re worried about us.”

At least that’s the return of something normal. “You say that about everything.” 

He breezes past my attempt at harshness, “Not everything.” 

“You said it when you noticed that my history folder and notebook match.” 

The corner of Stu’s mouth turns upwards, “Ah. The matching notebook-folders.” 

I roll my eyes, regretting bringing that up again. He had asked about the matching thing so much I felt like he had to have been making fun of me. “I’m not doing this again, a lot of people color match their stuff.” 

“And their sticky notes,” Billy mumbles. I turn my head enough to glare at him. He found me sorting my sticky notes by subject early into our friendship and so far it’s kind of been our secret. Not because it’s a bad thing, just a little type-A and make-fun-able. “Kidding.” Maybe I’d find him funny if I was better rested. He stares at my blank expression for a second, “Are you going back to bed?” 

There’s a small chance I’ll never sleep again. I don’t get a chance to answer. Billy steps back, pulling me forward a little. We all walk out of the bathroom and down the hall. Before I can say that I really don’t feel like sleeping right now, Billy walks past the door to Stu’s room. 

----

Stu pushes the mug so that it slides against the granite countertop. One of my hands wraps around the handle and the other presses against the ceramic’s side. The warmth soothes me as it leaches into my fingers.

“Thanks.”

He smiles a little, tapping his fingers against the kitchen island, “It’s the least I could do since you’re worried sick over us.” 

Billy looks over at us, mumbling some response I barely register, “The least you could do?” 

“Whatever, man, you kn--” 

The block of knives is only a few feet away. I can only see the handles, the blades are hidden in the wood, but that doesn’t make it any less distracting. 

Trying to force myself to stay in the moment, I stare at my mug, studying the giant, cursive London and cartoonish city line that wrap around the ceramic’s side. Big Ben is at the center, almost piercing the lettering. I almost ask about England, but decide not to risk it. Stu’s parents are always traveling. There’s a good chance he wasn’t on this trip. For all I know, the mug was what they brought back for him. 

I lift the glass to my lips, taking a few sips. The hot chocolate is almost shockingly good. Perfectly balanced between sweet and cocoa-y. Even the whipped cream and marshmallows are paired so well it feels scientific. 

“Y/n?” 

I set the mug on the counter, eyes studying the deflating marshmallow lump. “Yeah?” Tearing my eyes away from the marshmallow mutant, I force myself to look up. Billy and Stu share a look. It’s brief, but it feels heavy. Like one of those moments where they slip away into their own world. Normally, when they do that, it’s more like being left out of a joke. This time it might as well as be a psychological assessment. Be more normal. "I’ve never had hot chocolate after 2 AM before.” I take another sip, “It’s nice.”

My recovery feels smooth, so I let myself look up again. Stu’s already staring at me. It’s the kind of focus that wouldn’t be suspicious from him if he’d make some kind of joke about it. Any kind of flirty comment would make it okay and cancel out the seriousness behind his eyes. “You’re feeling better, right?” 

The worry is there, but pushed forward with such Stu-like energy that it almost feels more like a statement or request than a question. “A little.” I don’t know how true it is, but it’s easier to say that than admit how unsure I am. And maybe I’ll speak feeling better into existence. “Seeing you guys...knowing you’re okay helps.” 

Ah. Sleep depravation is no joke because that’s something I’m definitely going to regret. It’s way too vulnerable and easy to make fun of. I stare at my mug until the quiet’s too much and I have to face what I’ve done. Stu’s not holding in a laugh or radiating a smugness that he’s given into over less. He’s still watching me, but it’s different, softer and more open. I set my mug down before looking over at Billy. His eyes dart down to the sink almost immediately.

My attention snaps back to Stu as he moves forward to place his hand on mine. “Look who loves us.”

I glare halfheartedly as Stu gently bends and squeezes my fingers. “Duh.” Like these two weirdos don’t already know. “I know it was cheesy, but given the circumstances, can you guys please not.”

“That wasn’t cheesy.” Billy’s voice is low, a little rough. “But the nightmare over u--” 

“Shut up.” He’s smiling, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Sorry that I’d probably lose it if anything happened to either of you.” 

Billy rests his weight on his forearms, leaning forward. The front strands of his hair fall forward as he angles his head towards me. It’d be so easy to extend an arm and push his hair back into place. “Probably?”

I use the hand Stu isn’t still holding onto to grab my mug. “You were mean about it. That got you guys downgraded.”

Stu tugs on my hand with just enough pressure to get my attention. “Hey, leave me out of whatever he says.” I roll my eyes as I take a sip of hot chocolate. “I’m a total sweetheart compared to grumpy over there.” 

A burst of laughter tries to claw its way up my throat as I’m swallowing. I know what Stu said wasn’t that unbelievably funny, but something about oversimplifying Billy like that gets to me. “He isn’t grumpy.” I set my mug down. “He’s multifaceted.” 

“Multifaceted?” Billy repeats, tone trying too hard to be more wary than amused for it to work. The failure makes me fight down a grin. I like the slips from his usual demeanor, not that Billy’s rough around the edges exterior is something I’d change, it’s just nice to see him relaxed from time to time. It’s also probably good for him. 

I nod, committing to whatever bit I’ve accidentally started. “Like a house cat.” 

Billy’s eyes stay focused on me, the corner of his mouth hinting at what’s close enough to a smile for me to count it as a win. He looks like he might say something, but then Stu snorts. Laughs in a way that has him pulling on my hand again. “You nailed it, angel.” 

Billy tilts his head stiffly, still managing to glare at Stu. It’s still part of the joke, for now, and I need to make sure it stays that way. “So we agree, not grumpy.” 

“Hm...” Stu pauses, scrunching up his face as if I’ve just asked him an incredibly deep question that warrants this much reflection. “He’s not grumpy to you because you’re pretty.” 

Warmth rushes to my face and I don’t get why. Stu’s definitely said similar and much more intense things before. This comment shouldn’t be different, but he breezed out that last part so casually...like it was factual. “Shut up.” 

Stu turns my fingers. “And you have this kicked puppy thing you do with your eyes that makes it not worth it.”

That snaps me out of any embarrassment. I try pulling my hand away, but Stu doesn’t let me get too far. “I do not.” 

Stu squeezes my hand between both of his. “Yeah, you do, babe.”

I glare at him and Stu has the audacity to grin. The brief flash of teeth is a little too confident for my taste. He needs to be humbled. I turn my head enough to look at Billy. “He’s exaggerating, right?” 

Billy’s expression is hard to read. “It’s just...your eyes.” No. They’re teaming up and turning on me. “It’s not a bad thing.” 

Yeah, just what I need, another reason to seem like a cute little, doe eyed victim. It gets under my skin even though I know they didn’t mean it like that. 

“Hey,” Billy’s voice is low as he leans a little closer, “We’re just kidding.” 

I know that, which only adds to my irritation, because why can’t I just be normal? 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Stu tries, “You’re all big, bad, and scary.” 

Stu drops his voice dramatically, and despite myself, I smile. It’s awful how funny I actually find some of the things he does. Sometimes I feel like I have the sense of humor of a middle school boy. Billy raises his eyebrows, giving me a look that screams we really choose to deal with this, huh? He picks a mini marshmallow out of the bag before I can fully react and tosses it at Stu.

The marshmallow bounces off of Stu’s forehead and lands on the counter. I laugh a little more than I should. “What was that for?” 

“For being an idiot.” 

Stu scoffs, picking another marshmallow. He throws it at Billy. The marshmallow bounces off of Billy’s chest and falls in front of me anti-climatically. “Fuck you.”

His reaction is half joking and half not, like a majority of his more aggressive comebacks. It’s always just Stu going along with it until he’s not anymore. Maybe I should try to say something calming or distracting, just to assure the preservation of the easy mood. But I can’t think of anything, so I just pinch the marshmallow that fell in front of me between two fingers and toss it in Stu’s direction. It hits his arm and falls onto the counter. 

They both turn to look at me. The weight of their full attention takes me a little by surprise because I have no good justification for that. “What?” I shrug a little, “Everyone else threw one and I felt left out.” 

Stu lets go of my hand, which is a little concerning. He leans back, leg moving forward to push against my seat. The barstool is the kind that swivels so he succeeds in turning me. “You’re lucky you’re cute or people would talk about how weird you are more.” 

I push the front of my leg against his in an attempt to get my seat back into place. He doesn’t budge. “Right. I’m the cute, weird one.” 

His lips part slightly and his grin feels a little surprised. That can’t be a good thing. “You think I’m cute?” 

Oh my god. What have I done? “Hm. I don’t think that’s what I said.” 

“That’s what I heard.” His leg shifts, moving so that he’s touching closer to my knee than before.

There’s a chance that I could turn away or push him off, but that feels like letting him win, so I ignore the warmth rushing to my faced. “That’s what you always hear.” 

“I heard it, too.” 

My head snaps in Billy’s direction. “Don’t encourage him.” 

“If Stu had made it up, it would have been dirtier.” 

They don’t need any motivation to make these kinds of jokes. I know that I should be smarter about this, commit to my annoyance, but I can’t stop the laugh that slips out. “You guys are the worst.”

Billy moves so that he’s leaning even closer. So close I can make out his individual lashes. “Really looks like you feel that way.”

His voice comes out low, a hint of rasp finding its way into his voice. The words are casual, a return of a joke. Nothing in them can justify the weird rush of heat to my face.

“Yeah, well,” this has to be a sign of sleep depravation, “Looks can be deceiving.” 

He adjusts the weight resting on his forearms, “I believe you.” 

The reply is a little flat, hard to get, but the underlying amusement is clear. Like there’s some joke I’m missing. “Shut up.” I push myself further back into my seat.

“I didn’t say anything.” 

I pick up my mug. “You had a...vibe.” BIlly’s eyebrows draw together. “A making fun of me vibe.” 

The corner of his mouth pulls upwards. “A making fun of you vibe?” 

“You know what I mean,” I mumble, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. 

He tilts his head, as if seriously thinking through what I said. “You sound like you’re tired.” 

I knew we’d circle back to this eventually. There’s a good chance they’re tired. When they woke up in the middle of the night, they probably expected to go back to bed soon enough. “If you guys are tired, you can go to bed.” 

“We sleep when you sleep.” Stu turns my chair so that I’m facing him a little more again. Great, add their sleep schedules to the list of casualties my new weirdness is responsible for. “Don’t worry, babe, I can go all night.”

Stu looks so pleased with the stupid joke that I give in and crack a smile. “You shouldn’t have to, though.” 

His eyes lose some of their humor, softening in a way I don’t quite get. “I’ve stayed up for less important things.” 

“He’s tried,” Billy mumbles dryly, looking over at me, “I’ll actually stay up with you.”

I grin, “Wanna draw on his face when he falls asleep?” 

Stu lets out an offended scoff from the back of his throat, Billy ignores him, returning my smile. “Permanent marker.” 

“Hey,” Stu pouts, “Don’t be mean, or I won’t tell you about my surprise.” 

Hm...with Stu, there’s an 50/50 chance that whatever he’s referencing is weird. “Ominous.” His smugness does make me curious. “Okay--tell me.” Stu’s quiet for a second, a hint of smugness in the tilt of his head. I move my arm forward, softly shoving his arm. “Please?” 

At that, he cracks, his hand turning over in order to grab mine. Stu places a kiss to the back of my palm. “Only for you, angel.” He then lets me go and stands. Whatever the surprise is, Stu apparently has to leave the room for it. 

I blink, turning my attention to Billy, who halfheartedly shrugs. “There’s no telling with him.” 

Definitely an exaggeration on Billy’s part, considering the way the two just get each other. It’s a bond anyone could pick up on. “As long as he comes back fully dressed.” 

Billy faintly smiles. “Probably a 50/50 chance.” 

Tapping my fingers against the counter, I turn my attention back to my mug. “I don’t know, he seemed a little excited.” 

Stu comes back before anything else can be said. He’s holding out a VHS tape. Even though he’s still at the edge of the kitchen, I can make out a familiar red on the cover. No way. “You--” 

He keeps an arm extended in front of me until the tape’s in reach. I take it and he sits down with a triumphant grin. “I know my girl.” 

After I forced him to watch Clueless, I didn’t think I’d ever get him to do anything like that again. And now he just has it here, lying around on a night he didn’t even expect me to come over. He also didn’t pull it out for points earlier. If I hadn’t woken up, he might not have even mentioned it this visit.

It’s sweet and oddly thoughtful, especially coming from Stu. That fits him, though. When I least expect it, he’ll hit me with something like this. I grin, “Someone’s getting soft.” 

“I can take it back.” 

Gently tapping the tape against his arm, I look up at him. “Don’t you dare.” 

The tape is pulled out of my hands. I turn my head in time to see Billy fully steal my weapon from me. “Before you kill someone.” 

He’s joking, but the thought of their death is still fresh. My mind isn’t given a chance to latch onto the thought, because Stu leans forward and steals the tape back. “I’ll go set it up.” 

Stu stands up again, walking towards his living room. I slide off the stool, ready to follow him. I only make it a few steps before feeling a touch on my shoulder. It takes me a second to think to turn. Billy’s standing closer than I thought he’d be. On anyone else, that natural tendency to move so quietly would weird me out at least a little. But on Billy, it’s just another thing to add to the list of cat qualities I’ll definitely have to mention later.

Or now, considering the way he’s just staring, hand still on my shoulder. “Hi?” 

His thumb runs past the loose collar of the oversized shirt I’m wearing and over the base of my neck. “Hi.” Billy presses his lips together briefly, “You’re--” He stops himself, eyes flitting away from my face. “You’re okay, right?” 

From him, the question isn’t so much an assumption as it is an almost nervous check in. Billy’s stiff, like he’s bracing himself for hurt. Whether that’s stemming from forcing the question out or concern over my answer or something else all together, I don’t know.

His eyes are focused on something just past me. Billy’s so tense I can feel it in his hold. He’s not squeezing me, but there’s some rigid quality to the contact that wasn’t there before. Whatever he’s thinking of must be heavier than what I’ve been feeling. I don’t know why, but I shift closer and pull him into a hug. 

He lets me, eventually moving to place his free hand on my back. “I’m okay.” Billy’s surprisingly warm. “You and Stu just need to really try not to get murdered.” 

I feel his exhaled almost laugh more than I hear it. “We’ll try.” 

“Good.” The word comes out blunt and hard. I feel the tightness of it in my chest, aggravating the panic that took over earlier. Helpless and grieving and guilty. “Cause I’d--I’d lose my shit if--” 

My hold on him tightens. I’m squeezing him so much it has to be uncomfortable and my face is pressed into his shirt even though I can feel tears welling in my eyes.

He runs his hand up and down my back firmly, assuringly. “Nothing’s going to happen.” There’s no way of knowing that. My silence must get to him, because Billy moves his other hand near the nape of my neck, slowly forcing me to move my head away from his shirt. “Look at me.” It takes me a second, but I eventually find it in me to meet his eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen. We’re going to be okay.” I sniffle once before nodding. “All of us, because you’re not the only one that could lose their shit.” 

His tone comes out so hard it radiates an aggression that should make me feel worse. It doesn’t, the anger doesn’t make my throat feel tight like it normally would because it’s not directed at me. He’s watching me intently, hand shifting onto my collarbone as if he’s starting to regret what he said. 

I nod again, a little more convinced because it’s hard to challenge Billy’s intensity. Almost impossible to not believe him, no matter how little control he actually has over the situation. 

“Y-yeah.” My voice feels too small, too childish, like most of my actions tonight. His hand moves forward enough to get his thumb to brush against the pulse point of my neck. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when you two graduate.” 

I’m joking. Mostly. Billy lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “We’ll be around, so much you’ll be sick of us.” Again, another thing I want to believe just because Billy’s the one saying it. “If anything, you’re the one that’s going to break us up.” My eyebrows draw together as his thumb presses down a little harder.“Princeton, taking over the world...” 

“You’re exaggerating a little.” All of that’s still a world away, and there’s always a chance--knock on wood--that I won’t get in. But the shift in his mood tells me that those maybes don’t matter right now. “You guys could come with, there’s a lot of stuff in New Jersey.” Ah--that was kind of a weird thing to say. I can’t just pack them up and take them with me. That’s not how the world works. “Or--y’know--you guys could just visit and I--visit--I can visit you guys, too.” 

Smooth. Billy’s thumb drags down again, the touch regaining its comforting feel as he presses his lips together to fight down a smile. “Come with you?” 

“Not like--” I have no one to blame but myself. “I mean--yeah, it’d be cool, and New Jersey’s probably a good place to figure things out...” He’s just letting me ramble, which has to be intentional because he knows how I am. Honestly, it’s a little rude that he’s forcing me to elaborate with so little sleep in my system. “Plus your super awesome best friend would be there.” 

His smile eases a little more, “Super awesome best friend?” 

“It sounds like something you’d say about me.” 

He lets out a breath that’s definitely more amused than he wants it to be. There’s something about getting an extra smile or clearly suppressed laugh from Billy. It’s fun, like a game I’m forcing him into. 

“That is how I talk.” His lethal levels of sarcasm take nothing away from my victory. 

Billy steps forward. Instead of letting go, he moves his arm so that it’s around my shoulders. I’m kind of glad that he’s staying close. We walk to the living room together. 

Stu’s head snaps up from the VCR. “Took you two long enough.” He tilts his head back even further before raising his eyebrows dramatically. “Leave me out of something fun?” 

I roll my eyes, slipping out of Billy’s grasp and moving to sit on the couch. “Yeah, actually.” I relax into my seat. “We just hooked up in the kitchen.”

Stu jumps to his feet as I struggle to commit to the bit and not laugh. “Careful, angel.” He sits down next to me, so close our knees are touching as he moves his arm to get me even closer. “I might get jealous.” 

It’s not really a threat when he goes there often. Sometimes joking, like he is now and sometimes actually annoyed, like the time I couldn’t go to the movies with him because I had already agreed to hang out with Sidney for the third time that week. But now’s not the time for that, so I play along, “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

The other side of the couch dips, Billy’s arm moving to rest on the back of the couch. “Ouch.” 

There’s little harder than trying to keep them both equally happy. “Relax.” I relax further into the couch. “You know you’re both my favorites.” 

“But if you had to pick a number one...” 

I lift my hand, lazily swatting at Stu’s arm. The back of my hand barely brushes against his forearm. Stu moves quickly, grabbing my wrist before I can retreat. He pulls my arm towards him, slipping his fingers between mine. “Instead of starting problems, you should start the movie.” 

“Bossy.” He lets out a quick tsk, reaching over for something on the end table next to him. The crinkling sound of a wrapper has my eyes following his movements. He holds the packet in front of him triumphantly. “Now I don’t think I should give you these.” 

My sour gummies! “You actually have--” I reach forward with my free hand, but Stu pulls them back. “C’mon, you don’t even like them.” 

“You were mean.” 

He’s basically pouting, especially since I didn’t really do anything. But pointing that out won’t get me my gummies. “Fine. I’m sorry and you’re a treasure that I don’t appreciate enough.” 

Stu grins, angling his head towards me. “That’s more like it.” He shifts his arm, pulling the packet open before handing it to me. I grin, happily taking the pack and popping a gummy into my mouth. Stu wrinkles his nose. “How do you eat those?” 

I pick another gummy from the pack. He has to be exaggerating how much he dislikes them if they’re at his house. “If you hate them, why do you always have them?” 

Stu shrugs, a movement I can feel against my arm. “They’re on the list, the house shopper gets them.” 

I almost snort, nearly choking on the gummy that’s in my mouth. “I should make a list of all the rich people things you say.” 

“Ask him the difference between a house keeper and a house manager.” That only makes me laugh more. 

Stu glares past my head and at Billy. “Ask Billy about his family’s vacation cabin.”

This conversation belongs to a different tax bracket. “If either of you bring up skiing I’m leaving.”

Billy angles himself towards me in order to grab a gummy out of the pack. He squishes it between his thumb and pointer finger, exaggerating his skepticism. “That’s where you draw the line?”

I let myself sink further into the couch, “I’m being generous.”

“Mhm.” Billy shifts, moving his shoulder away from mine. I’m about to dismiss it as him being in a personal space mood when he rests his arm on the back of the couch, his fingers brushing against the collar of my shirt. “I believe you.” 

The response is brushed over, but there’s a pinch of smugness there that would be easy to dig at. I’m pretty sure that if I were to lift my head, I’d see evidence of it. A sarcastic smile he can’t explain away or a hint of too much humor behind his eyes. But I’m too comfortable to go after it

With no warning, the other side of the couch dips with no warning. My eyes snap towards Stu. I frown. “Stu?” 

“Just starting the movie.” His back is to me, but the grin in his voice is is audible. “Try not to miss me too much, sweetheart.” 

My nose wrinkles, face briefly pressing into Billy’s side as I cringe. “I think I’ll live.” 

The upbeat music of Clueless’s opening starts playing. After a second, the couch shifts again. Stu pulls the now empty gummy packet out of my hand and place sit on the coffee table. He then sits down, closer than before, our legs touching. After my dream, I can’t bring myself to scold him. They’re both here, completely okay. I don’t even say anything when Stu pulls my arm towards him. 

Billy lets out a breath that I feel more than hear. “Don’t fall asleep,” he whispers, “You’ll hurt your neck.” 

I roll my eyes. Sleep isn’t going to come back to me. It might not for a really long time, and there’s no way it’ll happen during Clueless. And sometimes Billy can be such a mom about things. It’d be more annoying if it wasn’t kind of...endearing to think of Billy as being a little bit of a secret softie. He likes to seem detached, but it’s all surface level. 

“Fall asleep during Clueless?” I tilt my head up enough to look up at him. “Do you even know me?” 

----

Narrator’s Perspective 

Stu’s eyes move away from the screen and towards your face again. It’s been less than 10 minutes, so checking on you is a little pointless, but Stu can’t help it. Sure, you must be tired, but there’s no way--oh. Your eyes are shut and you’re completely still, temple resting against Billy’s side. 

“She’s asleep,” Billy summarizes, not looking away from the screen. 

Nodding absentmindedly, Stu keeps his attention trained on you. There’s a softening of your features that always comes when you’re asleep. He can make out enough of that easiness, but there’s an underlying quality that feels stiffer. Stu tries to convince himself that any inconsistencies with the pout of your lips and the set of your brow is a product of the low lighting or his own tiredness reading too much into things. 

Your reactions tonight had been a surprise display of how well things are working. You’re all over them, you need them, you--He had never seen you like that. Most of it felt the way he imagined it would, but that relief was undercut by a different kind of tightness in his chest.

Stu runs his thumb over your knuckles. Billy sighs, finally turning his focus towards you. He smooths his thumb across your collarbone. “She’s fine.” 

Stu presses his lips together for a moment. “Yeah.” 

Billy manages to read that just as easily as he read Stu’s silence. He moves his hand to reach for Stu’s shoulder. “We want her needy, not broken. We’ll just ease off, no calls until she’s ready.”

“Yeah, she just--” There’s no way to say it without pushing at one of the lines they’ve both silently agreed to never mention. That moment in the kitchen when you slipped away, the blankness behind your eyes. It paralleled the way Billy gets when he gets into his head and disappears for a few days. The way he’s been for over a week. “You think she might need something?” 

It’s an awkward thought to force out, Stu so skeptical of the idea it’s almost like it came from someone else. Therapy, psychologists, all of that mental fix-what-isn’t-broken bullshit has always been a sore subject. “Isn’t her mom a little...” 

“Who gives a fuck about her mom?” Billy’s voice comes out more strained than he wants it to. Part of it is worry, part of it is the implication of motherhood and maternal genetics being that significant. “She--” There’s no real end to his sentence. What is it about you that makes Billy so sure you’ll be okay? Makes him so sure you have to be okay?

It’s not that you have that much going for you survival wise. You’re a good person, but that doesn’t mean much. Good people die all the time. You’re smart, but sometimes that just makes things worse. Billy lets himself mull over it, reflect on you and the way you made him feel when you walked in today. He decides then that you do have something going for you. “She has us.”

That admission serves as a sort of apology. “You and me. That’s all the help she needs.” 

You shift against his side, still asleep. The way you held onto him earlier bubbles in his chest. It’s one thing for you to need them, another thing to think that they’re so fucked up they broke the one good, normal thing about them. 

Stu frowns, noting the heaviness behind Billy’s eyes. It’s familiar, and now some version of that shadow that pulls Billy away from him is trying to take you. “We just won’t leave her alone.” 

That might not be the best thing to say, considering that the closest they come to acknowledging Billy’s occasional slip aways is Stu’s extended presence during those periods. The implication that Billy needs to be looked out for the same way you do is also risky, something that could be taken too seriously depending on Billy’s mood. 

A beat of silence, but Billy doesn’t stiffen or react to the implied similarities. “Until she snaps out of it, we don’t leave her alone.” They already spend an amount of time with you that’s hard to justify. Especially with the ever approaching grand finale of their plan. “I’ll need help with my history homework or get tickets to some movie, and when I’m not doing that, you’ll need help with an essay or be in a fight with your parents or--or anything.” 

Letting go of your hand, Stu leans further into the couch and stretches his arm over the couch. He rests his palm against Billy’s shoulder. “Yeah.” There’s more he could say. A range of things, maybe a joke or two about your unexpected outburst of worry. “We’ve got her.”

Billy nods, the motion stiff as he avoids looking at either Stu or you. He’s used to Stu’s closeness, and your openness tonight did ease that part of him that always assumes anyone that matters is flighty, but it’s pairing itself with things he’s not used to. The combination is starting to make him feel off, uncomfortable in a way he can’t understand.

“We should wake her up.” Billy’s voice is flat. “Her neck will hurt in the morning if we don’t.” 

Stu’s expression shifts to something a lot more smug. “I’ve got it.”

Billy rolls his eyes. Stu’s exaggerating in an attempt to bring back a more easy going atmosphere, but Stu’s definition of reasonably touchy is different than most. You’ve been through enough for one night, so Billy moves away. You let out an annoyed sound, trying to move closer to him in your sleep. He ignores the fondness that stabs at him and gently shakes your shoulder. Your eyes squint open. 

----

The dimness of the room makes it hard to register the fact that I’m awake. It takes a second, but I get there enough to pull myself off of Billy’s shoulder. I straighten my back, ignoring the hint of stiffness I feel in my neck.

I wipe the sleep from my eyes, looking at Billy and then Stu. “What?” 

“So much for too riveting to fall asleep.”

Billy’s a little too amused by the fact that I briefly dozed off. “I was...barely out.” 

The corner of his mouth turns upwards, “Then explain the snoring.” 

I scoff, moving back to give myself some space to hit his arm. “I do not snore.” He raises his eyebrows at me and somehow that’s more insulting than if he would have pressed the argument. I turn my head to look at Stu, “I don’t snore, right?” 

Stu takes my hand, squeezing my fingers. “It’s a cute snore, angel.” 

Sighing, I pull my hand away from his grasp, ignoring his pout. “You are so just taking his side.” 

He holds up his hands, “You’re adorable, but I’m neutral.” 

Yeah, right. “Yeah, you’re Switzerland.”

“Someone woke up moody.”

Because I have no good defense and sleep is still making my eyelids feel heavy, I just glare in his direction. Stu chooses to retaliate by placing a hand on the side of my head and pulling me towards him, placing a kiss against my temple before I can tell him to knock it off. 

Wrinkling my nose, I twist my arm back, trying to smack his chest. Stu lets go of my head and catches my open palm with an ease that’s a little insulting. He squeezes my wrist to his chest, head angling downwards. The light coming from the TV changes as one scene cuts to the next. The dimness seems to briefly lodge itself behind Stu’s eyes. 

“You know you’ve played into my trap.”

Stu angles his head to one side, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He makes a silent point by lightly tugging on my wrist. “Really?” 

“Mhm.” I straighten my spine instinctually, even though any height I get from that is useless. “I’m building your confidence, so that when I decide to attack you, you’ll never see it coming.” 

He grins before letting out a laugh. I know that I’m joking, but again, being dismissed that quickly is a little rude. I’ve never given him any reason to think I could kick his ass, but it’s not that impossible. “When?” 

I pull my arm towards my lap and Stu lets me go. “Shut up.” 

“What? I’m on your side.” Right. “You’re a mastermind, angel.” 

Billy sits up before exhaling. The sigh is low and brief but gives away how tired of us he’s getting. I can’t blame him, Stu and I are a lot to manage even when he’s well rested. “I don’t think you have to try too hard to build his ego.” 

I smile, turning my head to look at Billy. “It’s not a complicated plan.” 

Stu scoffs out a sound of protest before sinking further into the couch. “Fuck you guys.” 

A joke about how he’s pouting briefly comes to mind, but I decide that I’m too tired to push it. Considering how little sleep we’ve all gotten, it’d be easy to pass the line between easy going teasing and into one of Stu’s actual moods. “We’re kidding.”

“Yeah,” Billy starts, and I already know it’s not going anywhere good, “You’re the most humble.” 

Stu looks over my head to flatly glare at Billy. “Hysterical.” 

Despite Stu’s annoyed expression, there’s something about the exchange that’s so familiar it feels easy. Lighthearted despite potentially sharp edges. It’s the specific energy that’s usually associated with a specific group. “You two argue like an old, married couple.” 

That shocks Stu enough to make him forget any potential argument. His expression blanks as he turns his head down sharply to look at me. Whatever he finds in my amused expression makes him laugh. “Yeah, like I’d tie myself down to Billy’s sorry ass long enough to grow old together.”

Billy scoffs, and even that feels in good humor. “Like I’d be able to put up with him that long.” The words are dismissive, Billy’s tone bored, but I don’t miss the way he glances over at Stu. 

“Please,” Stu mumbles, pushing Billy’s arm from around the ledge of the couch before leaving his hand there, “You’d be lucky.” Stu scoffs out the sentence, but again, there’s something warmer lurking beneath the surface. 

It’s hard not to smile at the hidden in plain sight display of fondness. They really do get each other. I don’t know what’s shifted in the two seconds of silence, but I can practically feel them disappearing into one of their silent exchanges. It’s weirdly cute, but it’d be cuter if I wasn’t sitting between them during it. My position feels like it’s highlighting how out of place I am. 

Stu’s arm moves off the back of the couch and settles on my shoulders. “Who’s too good for who, sweetheart?” 

Yeah, there’s no way I’m even giving that a joke answer. “I’m tired, not stupid.” 

He frowns, “You’re no fun.” Before I can respond, Stu adjusts his hold on my shoulder to angle me a little closer to him. “I get it.” To his credit, Stu is whispering, but his voice is still loud enough for Billy to hear. Definitely on purpose. Stu angles his head towards me, leaning closer in order to pretend that this next part’s the real secret,“We’ve got to keep Billy’s feelings safe.”

Billy lifts a hand off the back of the couch and flicks the side of Stu’s head.

Even though I’d have to crane my neck awkwardly to look at Billy, I can feel him shrug. The motion briefly brings how close the two of them are to the front of my mind. 

“Ow--man, what was that for?”

I laugh, the sound too sudden and loud for this time of night. Stu might take that the wrong way, but I can’t help it anymore than I can help the way I slump into the couch. 

“Okay.” Billy sounds a little like someone speaking to a child resisting nap time, but does nothing to get me off of his shoulder. “Let’s go to bed before you fall asleep again.”

The thought of going to bed isn’t appealing, but I’ve complicated enough things tonight. I peel myself off of Billy’s shoulder and he keeps an assuring hand on my back. Stu follows along, standing up first and then making a point to hold onto my arm like I could fall without his support. 

We walk up the stairs almost exactly like that, hovering close together like kindergarteners on a field trip. It’s reassuring as we get to Stu’s room, helping me fight against the lingering anxiety from my dream. I focus on that as I force myself to sit on the edge of the bed. They’re fine.

Billy lays down on the same side he was on before. When I don’t move, he turns enough to nudge my shoulder. I take that as a sign to force myself to actually lay down. There’s no good way to justify the nerves. I fell asleep earlier and nothing bad happened. 

“Nothing’s going to happen.” The sentence is forced out and mumbled in a way that doesn’t fit Billy. It feels so hesitant I almost convince myself that I imagined it. 

“Yeah,” Stu echoes, moving so that his arm brushes against mine, “Everything’s okay, angel.” He pulls my hand towards him. “Promise.”

Still not the kind of thing that can be guaranteed, but I want to believe them. I nod even though it’s too dark for either of them to see. The motion is more for me, anyway, an attempt to force myself to agree. Things are okay for now, and that’s enough for me to close my eyes. It doesn’t take long for the lingering sleep in my body to come back, dragging me under before I can overthink anything else. 

----

Sunlight speckles the darkness behind my eyelids. It’s not an overwhelming brightness, but the change is jarring enough to wake me up slowly. I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, a little disappointed that the hazy feeling in my head doesn’t go away with the movement. Lack of sleep, I guess. 

I blink, turning my head to check on Stu. He’s still asleep, partially curled onto his side. It could be because of how energetic he is while awake, but Stu’s sleep always seems so full. My head turns in the other direction. Billy’s still, eyes shut, but something about his position feels stiff. I frown, making a point of only studying him out of the corner of my eye even though his eyes are closed. I wouldn’t put it past him to just know. 

Billy turns a little, the motion controlled enough to pass as something someone would do while asleep. He lets out a small sigh, another thing that could or couldn’t be sleep. “You’re up.” It almost sounds like an accusation. 

So he was awake. Knew it. “So are you.” 

He squints his eyes open. A few strands of hair fall forward as he angles his head to look at me. My eyes lock on the way they brush against his forehead. I squeeze my hands together, weirded out by the fact that I think it’d take less effort to push his hair back into place than to not, that it’s taking any effort to not fix. 

“Did you sleep okay, at least?”

The question surprises me more than it should. Billy may seem like the kind of teenage boy that’s too cool for a lot of things, but every once in awhile something a little softer slips out. A bit of a mother hen quality that likes to hide under a thin layer of snarky concern. I’d point this out, but I’m attached to our friendship. 

I prop my head up. “Yeah, I slept okay.” And I don’t even have to lie to say that. After lying down, it took no time at all for me to fall asleep. An all consuming, dreamless sleep, which is all I wanted. “You?” 

“Okay.” 

Hm. That was a quick answer. He seems fine, but the shadows under his eyes have been a little more prominent than usual lately. That paired with the glimpse of what I saw yesterday has to be worth noting, right? 

My eyes drop to the comforter. “You um...” I press my nails into the fabric. “Yesterday, I know I totally freaked, so I might sound a little hypocritical, but when I got here...you didn’t seem...” Ugh...there’s no good way to say this to him. It’s easy for him to twist things in his head and I don’t want him to feel attacked. “...Like you.” 

It’s only been a few seconds, but the silence expands something between us. My nails dig into the plush comforter even harder to distract myself, but it’s not working. I have to look up. Billy’s expression shifts from overwhelmingly blank to something a little harder when our eyes meet. 

“It’s just been a long week.” His tone is casual enough, but it’s missing what makes him familiar. “My dad’s on me about grades, senior year...” 

Billy did not just try to pin everything on his ‘senior year’. The realization that he’s probably lying, or at the very least, not telling me the entire truth, tries to crawl to the front of my mind, but it fails. It doesn’t matter. 

“Whatever it is...” I take a deep breath, “If you ever want to talk about it more, or just...need anything...” 

His eyebrows pinch together, eyes taking their time passing over my face. I don’t know what he could possibly be looking for in my expression. He must find it, because he eventually looks down. “Trust me, if I ever want to have a feelings talk, you’re the first person I’ll go to.” 

There’s a hint of teasing in his voice that makes it easy to smile. “I get it...” Billy places his palm over the back of my hand. “I’m all mush.” 

“Eh,” he tilts his head, playing into the joke as I roll my eyes. He shifts so that more of his weight is resting on his elbow. “You’re nice.” The shift in tone is sharp enough to give me whiplash. “You care about people.” 

I keep my eyes on our hands. “You’re nice, too.” He might not be aware of it, but he’s a lot kinder and more careful than people give him credit for. He’s always there when I need him and he always tries to understand. “You’re a good friend, so if you--” 

“I’ve seen you get worse over a math test.” Technically true, but that was a complicated situation. It wasn’t just the math test, it was the morning after the Ghostface attack and then I found photos of the Becker’s yard printed in a copy of the newspaper abandoned in the bathroom. But I have reacted pretty dramatically to less than ideal grades before. 

Billy’s hand grips mine with a little more pressure than before. “Yeah,” I mumble, already regretting trying to push.

He sighs, “I’m okay.” 

Billy relaxes his hold on my hand. “Yeah,” I nod, “Guess I’m just a little overprotective.”

“You like me that much, huh?” 

I roll my eyes. “Eh. You’re okay.” 

His eyebrows draw together in exaggerated offense, “Just for that, I’m not making you breakfast.” 

He lets go of my hand and moves to stand in an attempt to make his threat seem more genuine. I push myself to sit up fully, “You know how to make breakfast?” 

Billy’s already approaching the door but he turns his head enough to glare at me. “I’ve never set off the fire alarm.” 

“That was one time.” 

He dismisses my defense by opening the door. I push myself off the bed, looking over at Stu. He’s still out. “He’s fine, he’ll wake up when he’s hungry.” 

I focus on the even rise and fall of his chest. Stu’s face is pressed into his pillow, one leg still covered by his blanket and the other kicked out, dangling close to the edge of the bed. At least one of us knows how to sleep. 

“Yeah,” I agree, walking towards the door, “He’s lucky we’re too nice to draw on him.”

Billy looks back at me as he steps onto the stairs, “He’s lucky I don’t have a pen.” 

I laugh. “Maybe we can find one.” 

The part of the living room that’s too far away from the windows to reach a decent amount of sunlight is still illuminated. An artificial glow catches my attention. I guess no one turned off the TV last night. 

I walk towards the TV, crossing my legs beneath me as I sit down. It takes a second because of all the extra buttons on the control panel--rich people TVs should have instruction manuals taped to their sides--but my eyes eventually find the off button. I press it and all the TV does is turn staticky. 

“The tape’s still in there, you need to turn off the VCR first.” 

Makes sense. I mess with the buttons, turning the whole thing back on and starting over. Billy waits near the couch as I manage to turn the VCR off because after a second, regular cable starts playing. I hit another button. Instead of powering off, the TV switches to another channel. Before I can press anything else, a voice catches my attention. “The police department still has no leads on the crime that has rocked this sleepy community almost a year after the still unsolved murder of Maureen Prescott.” 

“Isn’t Gale Weathers that journalist you yelled at?”

Ugh--that’s how I know her. "I didn’t yell.” I stare at her focused expression as she stares down the camera. “I just made my thoughts on her journalistic process clear.” She’s wearing a suit that’s as vibrant as the one she was wearing when I met her at school. “Also my thoughts on what she was wearing.” 

The studio lights reflect against her gingery red, blonde highlighted hair in a way that’s unfortunately put together. “She’s kinda pretty, I guess...” Her getting-the-story-at-any-cost personality is something I’d admire if it was directed at anyone else. “For someone that totally sucks.”

“Which is why I’m still pressing forward with an updated version of my book detailing the two crimes, the suspects, and the most recent piece to the complicated puzzle--the sole survivor of the Becker Case.” 

Oh, there is no way she means--

My yearbook photo flashes onto the corner of the screen. “Local high schooler, Y/n L/n.” 

Blood rushes to my ears. Something warm and assured squeezes my shoulder. Billy. “Y/n?” 

The floorboards creek beneath the weight of even footsteps. “Thanks for--” The grogginess in Stu’s voice disappears with the rest of his original sentence, “What happened?” 

I finally connect with my body enough to pick my jaw up off the ground enough to form a sentence, “She put me in her fucking book.” 

----

a/n billy and stu when the traumatic thing they do is actually traumatic: 😦

also we’re about to get into the gale arch! yay!

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thanks for reading!! <3

"best ghostface" this and "favorite scream killer" that. shut up, none of them will ever be billy loomis and stu macher. you can't outdo the doers.