Came To The Realization Today That Stu Macher Is Technically A Mirrorball Character,,

came to the realization today that stu macher is technically a mirrorball character,,

screaming crying

Final Girl (Part 3)

- Final Girl Series Masterlist (updated part 1 - 9 and extras) 

A/n yall have been so kind!! all of the messages, likes, comments, and reblogs for this series have made me so happy! this chapter is a little bit of filler bc my original idea for this part was way too long especially with how busy this week is supposed to be, so i sort of split it!! 

also if this has pacing issues, i’m sorry, i had a panic attack yesterday and a really bad migraine today so it’s been kinda rough lately but i wanted to get this out!! Part 4 is going to have a little more going on :)

if this is messy pls don’t give up on me 😭 i promise the next part will have more going on i just didn’t want to leave y’all waiting forever and we needed a bit of a filler

also if anyone wants to leave me an ask about this series pls do:) i’ve had so much fun talking about Final Girl

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: Y/n’s first day back after the incident. 

----

My reflection has never bothered me more. I know vanity is such a stupid thing to worry about now after what happened to Casey, but I can’t help the way I scrutinize my appearance. 

The attention drawing cotton-y bandaid that was placed on the gash on the side of my temple has been (thankfully) downgraded to a regular bandaid. That’s fine--I can accept that. What I can’t accept are the stupid cuts caused by all of that glass.

After being released from the hospital, it took no time for me to learn that it’s going to be awhile before I can comfortably wear pants again. My arms are a little less cut up, so the white, long sleeved shirt I picked out covers my injuries without irritating them. I tried on a pair of leggings and I barely got them to my thighs without wincing.

So now I’m wearing the most comfortable skirt I own. Normally, I wouldn’t even think twice about it, I wear this skirt so often, but it barely covers any of the cuts on the back of my legs. God...people are going to think I’m doing this for attention, especially since media outlets keep calling my house. 

Ugh--this is as good as it’s going to get for my first day back. I pick my backpack up from my bed. My eyelids feel so heavy I have to fight the urge to collapse back into bed. 

The walk downstairs is painfully slow. Once I’m finally in the hall that leads to the kitchen, I stop. A vague confusion clouds my thoughts. Was I going to the kitchen? What did I want from the kitchen?

“Mornin’, kiddo.” I blink at the sound of Wells’ voice. At least it’s offering me a sense of a direction. 

Stepping fully in the kitchen, I greet back, “Good morning.” 

He eyes me for a long second, piercing blue irises lingering in a way that makes me feel uneasy in my own skin. “Skirt’s a little grown, ain’t it?” When my only reaction is to furrow my eyebrows, he continues, “What happened to those little girl dresses you used to wear? I liked those.” 

I grab the strap of my backpack, shifting slightly. I stopped wearing those dresses after he had been dating my mom for a few months. “Outgrew them, I guess.” 

Wells nods once, the motion gruff as he moves to grab his mug. He lets out a curt, gruff noise. 

“Oh, Wells.” Like always, my mom’s voice chases away all the tension. “Don’t you know better than telling a girl what to wear? Especially a teenager. Now ease up, 16-year-old me would make Y/n look like a saint.” With that, my mom finally looks at me. “You look pretty, like always, I especially like your top.” It takes me a second to realize that my mom’s referencing the fact that I stole this shirt from her closet. I let out a soft, slow laugh. “You okay?” 

I nod drastically. “Yep, just want to get the first day back over with.” 

“I can’t believe you only took one day off. When I was your age, I’d have taken half a week off for less.” 

“It’s going to be bad no matter when I go back. My name’s been all over the news.” I release the strap of my backpack, scratching the back of my wrist. “Plus it’s junior year and that one day off already has me drowning in makeup work. I can’t afford to fall behind. Junior year is the year colleges look at most. This year could make or break whether or not I get into Princeton.” 

My mom holds her hands up in defense. “Yes, I know, you ranted to me about it yesterday. Just promise me you’ll listen to your body. I don’t love that you haven’t had your follow up appointment yet to confirm whether or not you have a concussion.” 

“Mom, I’m fine, promise. I’ll let you know if I start to feel weird.” 

She watches me for a long second, likely attempting to scan me the way an MRI machine would. “Fine, you need a ride or--” 

“Actually, a friend’s picking me up.” 

At that my mom tilts her head in a way that’s so knowing I feel the urge to confess even though I’ve done nothing. “A friend as in one of those two boys that spent all weekend calling and checking in on you?” 

My mom spent the last two days at my side. Normally it would have annoyed me, but it was actually nice. It reminded me of life before Wells. There was one downside, though. She saw how often Billy and Stu called. It wasn’t terrible and she probably would have picked up on it anyway, but it’s opened the ground to a lot of jokes and comments on her part.

“You’re the one who brought them into this. I would have never thought to call Billy while I was at the hospital.” That’s true. Even though we were friends before the incident, I wouldn’t have thought to call anyone except my mom. “And they’re just trying to be there for me like good friends.” 

At that, my mom leans against the kitchen island. “Y’know when I was your age, I had a guy that just wanted to be a good friend and drove me to school. Now I have a daughter.” 

I roll my eyes, “Haha. Yes--I’m going to get pregnant in the less than 10-ish minutes we’re going to have before we need to get to class.” 

“It only took about 8 minutes to make you, and that includes me getting dressed and fixing my hair after. Just saying.” 

I make a point of fake gagging. “Bye mom, Wells.“

“What? I was joking!” 

I walk towards the front door. A hand on my shoulder makes me nearly jump out of my skin. “Mom! You scared me.” 

She offers me a sheepish smile, “You know I’m kidding, right? They’re nice for caring.” 

“I know, mom.” 

With a sigh, she continues, “Just be sa--” 

“Oh my God, mom! I’m not having se--” 

“Easy, pumpkin,” she laughs off my outburst, “I mean in general. Don’t strain yourself and don’t feel like you need to push through. You want to go home early and I’ll pick you up.” 

I smile softly. “Yeah, I will.” 

With that, I open the front door. The sun is so bright I have to drop my head as I walk down the driveway. Wells’ house is objectively nicer than the house my mom and I lived in when we were still in Texas, but I still find myself missing the familiarity of our old front porch. 

Squinting, I look up and notice a car waiting next to the mailbox. How did I miss that? Rubbing my eyes with one hand, I approach the vehicle. 

I pull open the door to the backseat. Two sets of eyes turn towards me. “You know you guys didn’t have to wait for me.” I push my backpack into the car before sitting down. “You could’ve honked or something,” 

“We just got here,” Billy says easily, but I’m not sure I believe him. 

Stu turns in his seat to face me better as I shut the car door. “Plus we don’t mind giving you time to get all dolled up. Especially since today’s going to be a total bloodbath.” 

His wording leaves me more confused than upset. I draw my eyebrows together, shifting awkwardly. “What do you mean?” 

“Everyone’s gone crazy over what happened. I think more people were talking about you than Casey, and Casey’s the one that got gutted. It’s all over the news. They hung her from that tree in--” Billy moves his hand from the console in order to smack the side of Stu’s head. “Ow, man--what was that for?” 

“It’s not even 8 yet, at least let her wake up first before you traumatize her.” 

The thought of Casey makes my stomach twist, but I’m not focused in on anything enough to really react. Tiredly, I pull my backpack onto my lap and squeeze it to my body. “It’s fine,” I’m not sure if I’m talking to them or myself. 

Stu and Billy exchange a look that I barely register before resting my chin on my bag. “Are you okay? You didn’t even do that cute, little glare thing you do when you want me to shut up.” 

“I’m fine,” I answer a little too quickly, forcing myself to sit up some more, “A little tired.” Stu’s watching me a little too carefully and I catch Billy glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “Seriously?” Sighing, I shift in my seat, “First my mom and now you guys. I’m fine.”

My reaction is just a little too angry. Maybe if I felt a little more rested, I would have known better. Stu moves until he’s siting in the passenger seat normally. “Crying over the fact that you’re a total mommy’s girl.” 

Rolling my eyes and ignoring the way the motion irritates my migraine, I lean back in my seat. “Put on a seatbelt, asshole.” 

Even though that’s said with more bite and irritation than anything I’ve ever said to him, Stu laughs. It’s light and terribly offensive. I frown, looking over at Billy as heat crawls up my neck and towards my face. He’s just barely fighting down a grin. “It’s not that funny.” 

“No,” Stu sarcastically agrees, “That was so mean of you. I can’t remember the last time someone insulted me and tried to take care of me at the same time.” 

I cross my arms around my backpack. “Why did I agree to getting into a contained space with you two so early in the morning?” 

“Because you don’t have a license.” Billy looks way too smug as he turns the wheel as we move down a curb. 

I glare at him. “You extorted that information out of me while I was super out of it and half asleep.” 

“You said it yourself, it’s not like one of us asked.” 

He’s right and I hate it. I sink further into the seat, tempted to shut my eyes, but knowing that there’s no guarantee that I won’t fall asleep if I do. “Whatever.” 

Stu half laughs at that before starting to talk about a new scary movie that’s coming out. The plot sounds kind of basic, but I’m not one to judge until I see the movie. Normally, I’d be totally invested. I kind of like when Stu rambles about something he’s interested in, but now I’m struggling to hold my head up. 

I don’t register that we’re in the school parking lot until both Billy and Stu get out of the car. Once they’re both out, I shake my head once in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Get it together.

When I step out of the car, I make a point of keeping my eyes on the ground in front of me. Stu may exaggerate every once in awhile, but I don’t think he’s wrong about school. My mom has been fielding calls since the morning I was discharged from the hospital and last night while I was flipping through channels, I saw my face three times.

Before I can even think, a bright flash makes me flinch. The light is like a punch behind the eye thanks to my headache. That is followed by a series of other equally bright and irritating camera shutters. 

Shit. 

Billy steps towards me, dropping his voice so that only I can hear, “You know we don’t have to.” 

Taking a settling breath, I tilt my chin up a fraction of an inch. “It’s fine,” I say, hoping that I’ll convince myself, “Can’t hide forever.” 

We walk forward, me a few steps ahead of Billy and Stu. My fast pace is a sad attempt at ripping off the bandaid. 

“Excuse--Excuse me, miss!” I squeeze the strap of my backpack so tightly my knuckles must be white from the tension. “Miss Y/n L/n.” The woman that waves me down is holding a large microphone. She barely glances at me before turning her attention back to the camera man that followed her as she chased me. “Hi. Gale Weathers. I covered the last one of these.” 

I wince. “I’m sorry, when you say ‘the last one of these’ do you mean the last murder or--” 

“...And we’re rolling!” In nature, bright colors are meant to warn living things of poison. I think that logic could be applied to Gale Weathers and her auburn hair and blood red lips. “I’m Gale Weathers and I’m bringing you an exclusive with the lone survivor of what some are calling the worst murder in Woodsboro history.” She then turns towards me, “Now, Y/n, our viewers want to know exactly what you’re feeling.” 

Her microphone is way to close to my face. “Well, Gale, I’m glad you asked,” I’m speaking in the polite tone I used to reserve for rude customers when I worked in the mall last summer, “I’m feeling fan-freakin’-tastic!” 

The false enthusiasm jars her the way I hoped it would. She brings the microphone back to her. “Really?” 

“No, you vulture. Ambush interviewing is as tacky as that suit.” 

With that, I turn away and attempt to storm into school with an aura that scares away reporters. I’ve only ever seen that kind of confident magic come from my mom, but she’s half my genetic material, that means it must be in me somewhere, right?

Apparently wrong, because the cameras continue to flash. One man gets so close to me that his rapid photographing leaves me dizzy. 

“Okay,” an arm quickly wraps around my side, stabilizing me, “You got your pictures, now leave her alone.” The scent of Tatum’s perfume is comforting as she guides me the rest of the way inside. Once we’re inside, we’re granted the semblance of some privacy. “And I thought they were bad yesterday. Are you okay?” 

I nod, relaxing a little at her casual expression. Maybe if I try hard enough, I’ll be able to pretend that this is an average Tuesday. “I’m fine, I’m just tired, and I can’t believe how obsessed everyone is.” 

“Of course they’re obsessed.” For the first time ever, Randy’s voice is completely unwelcome. “You’re the sole survivor, the only witness to tell the story, the--for lack of better term--final girl.” 

Being in a friend group with so many people that are really into horror movies is all fun and games until they summarize the great trauma of your life in a movie trope. “Really? I never would have thought of it that way.” 

Sidney glares at Randy in defense of me. I appreciate it, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. “It’s too soon for those kinds of jokes.” 

My sarcasm was pure venom and Sidney’s reaction, though well intentioned, only made me feel sorry. Randy offers me a sheepish sort of look that immediately makes me feel bad for being so snippy. His comment wouldn’t have bothered me so much if it wasn’t for what just happened, and he wasn’t really trying to be mean. That actually might have been an attempt to lighten the mood, especially since he knows that the final girl storyline is one of my favorites. He’s always recommending movies that end like that. 

“Thanks, Sid, but I came on a little strong. I’m sorry, Randy, I’ve been a total nightmare all day. Just ask Billy and St--” I look around, a little surprised that they’re not right behind me. Aw, I lost them in all that commotion. “Weird--they were just behind me.” Shaking off the slightly lost feeling with the turn of my head, I move on, “Ask them later. The point is, I’ve been awful. It’s not your guys’ fault that this is my life right now.” 

Randy’s expression morphs from being almost hurt to something that’s even more of a punch in the gut. He seems sympathetic. “It’s okay, you’re holding it together way more than I would be. I don’t even know how you’re at school today.” 

“Yeah, how are you even here, Y/n?” Tatum echoes, her voice a little softer than before. 

It’s a good question. Now that I’m here all those points I made about school and grades and Princeton feel so far away. “It had to happen at some point, I might as well rip off the band aid. I just want everything to go back to normal.” I shift awkwardly, watching them watch me. “And the man that did this doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of my fear.” 

After a moment, Randy prompts, “...And?” 

“And what?” 

He half smiles. “Come on, Y/n, if you want this to feel normal, you’re going to have to give us the Princeton rant.” 

I roll my eyes before scoffing. “I do not talk about Princeton often enough for you to warrant naming it a specific rant.” 

Randy raises an eyebrow at my obvious lie. “You must have really hit your head hard.” 

“Rude.“ I turn towards Tatum, “Tate, you don’t think I’m like obsessed with Princeton.

She parts her lips as she debates the way she wants to respond. Before she can say anything, Stu walks up from behind me and pulls Tatum into a hug. He then gives her a soft kiss that feels linger-y. Wait--why am I noticing that? That’s...that’s weird of me. And why does this feel more uncomfortable than the time I caught them full on making out in the girl’s bathroom? Why is that tiny display of affection sitting in my chest in a way that makes it hard to look at them? 

More annoyed at my thoughts than the way Stu cups her face, I force my myself to stare at the locker in front of me. There are polaroids of people I don’t know tapped to the front of it.

Ugh--screw the guy that threw me into that wall. My head must be totally messing with me. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Billy’s sudden appearance surprises me more than it should. At this point, I should know that when I see one the other isn’t too far behind. He has an arm around Sidney’s shoulders, and she’s leaning into his touch just enough for it to be noticeable. Since when is Billy so into PDA? 

Oh my god, what’s wrong with me? Maybe my mom was right to think I have some kind of brain injury. My eyes snap back to the locker. “Nothing.”

“Y/n’s obsession with an Ivy League school in New Jersey.”

After a moment of silence, I realize that everyone’s waiting for me to speak. “Not an obsession.” My response lacks my usual level of conviction when talking about Princeton in any capacity. I can feel the fragile way they’re all looking at me. My eyes focus on the polaroids in front of me until everything else blurs into the background. 

The polaroids have my eyes watering and I don’t know why. They’re just stupid pictures of people I don’t know. Casey’s voice echoes in my head. It’s a punch in the gut.

Stu’s voice cuts through the static of my thoughts. “Y/n? Are you o--”

“I think I remembered something.” The admission is so low I’m surprised anyone hears it. “Randy, do you have a copy of the news article? Not the first one, the second one that lists everything found at the crime scene?” 

“Yeah,” Randy admits it like it’s an apology, “In my backpack.” 

“Can I see it?”

Everyone stays quiet at that. There’s an energy in the air that makes me feel as trapped as I did in the hospital. “Come on, guys, I don’t need to be babied. The pictures aren’t going to freak me out, I was kinda there for the real thing.” 

“At the hospital, didn’t you say you were unconscious for most of it?” Billy’s remark earns him a glare so harsh that he moves his hands to hold them up in defense before dropping them to his side. 

“Fine. Whatever. Don’t show me the newspaper, I’ll find my own copy, it’s everywhere. There’s a good chance some jag-off shoved one into my locker anyways.” Ugh--why is everyone so impossible? I turn on my heels, unsure if I’m fuming or ready to burst into tears.

I don’t even make it a full step before something locks around my upper forearm. My head snaps back as the hand’s sudden grip softens. “Come on, bug.” That leaves me hesitant. Stu called me that the day after we first met. Since then, the nickname has mainly been reserved to calm me down. I’ve asked him about it before, but he always refuses to explain it. “You’re just going to make yourself sick.” 

Biting the inside of my cheek, I frown. The group learned about my weak stomach early on in our friendship. My first night drinking with them ended with me throwing up in Stu’s bathroom. That wouldn’t have been so embarrassing if I was totally wasted, but I was objectively way too sober to get that sick.

There’s some underlying quality to his words. A quality that’s too knowing, too sure. He’s being more condescending than sweet. “I think I can manage.” I pull my arm away, ignoring the way his expression blanks. “I’m not a vase or a little kid, I don’t need you all treating me like I’m that unbelievably fragile.”

Stu angles his head to the side. I force myself to tilt my chin upwards in an attempt to stand my ground. I don’t fully get whatever face off we’re in, but I’ll be damned if I lose it this quickly. “Since you’re all grown up, Y/n, look at whatever you want, but don’t come crying to me about it.” 

I take a step forward, indignation leaving my spine straight. “When have I ever--” 

“You couldn’t even spend a few hours by yourself in a hospital.”

The unfairness of his statement forces a scoff from my lips. I take a step forward. “I didn’t ask for your help then and I’m not asking for it now.” 

“Stu.” Billy’s voice is level, bordering on neutral. 

At that, Stu exhales, but he doesn’t stop staring at me. “It’s fine, Billy.” 

“Yeah,” Stu echoes, shifting towards me, “Y/n’s fine, she doesn’t need anyone.” 

A sarcastic, half thought out reply rises up my chest and jams itself in my throat. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about how much taller than me Stu is. He’s looking down at me with an intensity that hits me straight in the stomach. Great, another feeling I don’t understand. “Whatever,” I mumble, “I need to get to class.” 

The bell rings a moment after I turn. I walk to homeroom, not thinking twice about it until I’m sitting in front of an empty desk. 

My face is hot, my head hurts, and Mrs. Ramirez’s announcements are drowned out by a ringing in my ears. When the bell rings, I can’t get out of the room fast enough. Normally, Stu’s around right after homeroom, ready to walk me to math. 

I don’t know what that weird argument was in the hallway, but I’m not ready to deal with it yet. So even though I’m gripping the straps of my backpack so tightly it hurts, I take the long way to class. There are no memories of Casey in AP Calc AB, so this time when I sit at my desk, I can breathe.

By the time I’m pulling out my notebook, the bell rings. Mr. Williams walks to the front of the classroom, “Alright, everyone in their seat. For today’s exam, you are permitted the use of a graphing calculator.”

Shit. The test. I forgot about the calc test. Mr. Williams begins to hand out the exam. When he gets to me, I stop him, “Mr. Williams, I-I was wondering if I could possibly take the exam on another day? After the events of this weekend, I--” 

“Ms. L/n, I made it clear to the entire class that I do not believe in scheduling a makeup exam the day of.” 

My fingers nervously scratch at the back of my wrist. “And I understand that, and normally I’d never ask, but if you’ve seen the news--” 

“Ms. L/n, do you want to take the test or would you rather me put a 0 in the grade book?” 

I could scream. I want to scream, but instead, all I do is nod, “Take the test.” 

And with that, he places the packet on my desk. The sound it makes feels like a death sentence. The next 50 minutes are a nightmare. I don’t remember how to do half the problems, and what I do remember, I can’t seem to do right. By the time the bell rings, I’m in full on panic mode. Mr. Williams collects the test and I leave the room like it’s on fire. 

The sharp pain in my head has never been this bad. I reach my locker, unlocking it to grab my bottle of ibuprofen. I take two Advil without any water. Today totally, unbelievably sucks. I need to splash some water in my face. 

The bathroom is thankfully empty. Pushing my backpack off of my shoulders and onto the counter, I turn on the sink. The water is cool against my fingers, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe. My bandaid is sticking out to me too much so I force my gaze downwards. 

There’s a long abandoned copy of a newspaper on the counter. Its corners are so wet that the words at the start and end of the article are unreadable. The page it’s opened to has no photos. I’m sure if I flipped through it I’d find something listing everything the police found inside the house that night. 

Stu’s earlier claim echoes in my head as I pick up the newspaper. I’m not sure if I’m more motivated by spite or the desire to answer the question in my head, but I guess it doesn’t matter, because the end result is the same. I turn the page, skimming the article. The intro is so long that I still haven’t gotten to the murder, let alone what the police found after. I flip ahead until I find what I’m looking for.

I read the section about everything that was found twice. They mention everything down to the burned jiffy pop and the tube of lipgloss Casey left in the living room. The paragraph never mentions the polaroids from the kitchen.

He took pictures of me from the crime scene. 

Unease leaves my stomach in knots. The killer, who talked to me on the phone like we were best friends and chose to not kill me took photos of me. 

I turn the page frantically, desperate to see if the polaroids are mentioned there. Big mistake. Casey’s photo is staring at me, but she’s not her in it. She’s hanging from that big tree in her yard and her--her intestines... 

Cold sweat leaves my hands clammy. My body knows what’s happening before I do. A stall door gets thrown open just in time for me to throw myself onto my knees. Bile and whatever’s left of last night’s dinner burn as they come up my throat. I wretch. 

An unexpected but not unpleasant touch is pressed into my back as my hair is pushed out of my face. More bile leaves me. 

After a second passes and I don’t throw up a third time, I turn my head just enough to see who’s next to me. Billy. He doesn’t say anything at my recognition, he just moves his hand up and down my back gently. 

“...I found a newspaper.” 

“Yeah, I assumed after i heard the…”

He’s trailing off to be nice. I shift in order to sit cross legged on the floor. “Right. That’s fair.” 

His hand stalls against my back. “I didn’t mean it li--” 

“I know.” My voice is too small.

Billy moves his free hand. I don’t know what he’s doing until he’s pulling the paper away from me. I let him take the newspaper and place it somewhere on the other side of him. “Why’d you look?” 

“I--earlier, I was looking at this locker in front of us and it had polaroids taped to it, and-and that made me remember that on Saturday, Casey took a bunch of pictures of me. Polaroids.” I wipe at my face with the back of my palm. "The article’s super detailed, but it didn’t mention any pictures. I-I think that means that the person took them.”  

Billy’s eyebrows draw together. The corner of his mouth turns downwards. “You’re making yourself sick over this.” 

“Because it’s a big deal!” My reaction is harsher than it should be. He’s being nice to me after I blew up at everyone this morning and they were just trying to be good friends. And after this, I’m in no position to talk about what I am and am not able to handle. “It’s a big deal that I’m alive and Casey isn’t.” Taking a shaky breath, I continue, “And I should--I have to make it right somehow. Casey’s dead and I’m alive because it fit whatever plot he wanted to make. It was total chance, the killer probably flipped a coin while outside of her house to pick which one of us would live and which one would end up like...” I gesture vaguely in the direction of the newspaper, “That.” 

He’s quiet for so long I think he may not respond at all. His hand begins to move up and down my back again in the form of small circles. “Do you really think that?” 

Shrugging, I lean into his touch. “I mean, it’s probably either that or a stalker scenario.”

“You don’t have to figure it out. Just because you’re the one that survived doesn’t mean you need to put yourself through this. Especially now. It just happened, give yourself some time.” His voice is so assuring and oddly comforting I feel my eyes water. “What’s wrong?” 

Despite myself, I almost snort. “I think you know what’s wrong.” 

He gives me a semi bitchy look. “Something else happened, I can see it on your face.” 

Frowning, I let my gaze drop to the ground. “Am I that transparent?” 

Billy moves, the hand that’s not on my back coming beneath my chin. I let him tilt my head upwards until our eyes meet. “You have no idea.”

Warmth crawls up my face. He smiles. “Fine, I’ll tell you but it’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve had a really bad headache all day and then I get to first period and Mr. Williams starts talking about an exam. And that’s how I realized that I completely forgot about the calc unit test. I tried using the whole almost murdered excuse--I kinda hated myself for it, but it doesn’t matter, because he didn’t even go for it.” With a dramatic, deprecating sigh, I start to pick at a loose thread in my shoe lace. “Mr. Williams doesn’t believe in getting out of the test the day of. There’s no way I didn’t fail it, and it’s an AP class so that’s going to mess with my entire GPA.” 

He doesn’t comment on my teariness or the way that I almost sniffle, he just continues to softly rub my back. The gesture is starting to feel somewhat maternal, but it’s nice. “He made you take the test?” 

“Mr. Williams’ is a total asshole.” 

Billy’s mouth turns upwards, “He sounds like it.” I smile, leaning into his touch. “You should go back to the doctor.” He frowns when I move away from him. “Your head hurts, you’re moody--” 

“Am not.” 

“Right, because that stand off with Stu earlier was like you.” 

Right--that weird moment in the hallway. Great, Stu’s probably mad at me, and there’s no way that me going out of my way to not see him before math is something he’s going to take lightly. “He’s probably so mad at me.” 

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Billy says, “He can’t stay mad at you.” 

I give him a look. “He’s petty.” 

Billy smiles after a second. “He’ll be petty about it, but he won’t actually be mad.” Before I can respond, Billy stands, “Come on, you need to go to a doctor.” 

After a second, I stand, taking his hand. “Fine.” 

----

Taglist: @cole22ann @i-amnotokaywiththis 

I know I’m annoying people and for that I’m really sorry but this is just a little post again asking for help if you can spare it. We’re struggling and thanks to peoples generosity so far we have food and electricity, but things keep getting worse. The cars packing in, and all the stress is killing me. I’m passing out and sleeping for like 14 + hours a day.

If you can/want, here’s my PayPal and again I’m so sorry to ask. If you can even just reblog <3

MY PAYPAL

(If you do send anything remember to send as ‘family and friends’ or I can’t access the money for a couple weeks)

MATT MURDOCK IS BACK!!!!!!! THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IS BACK!!!! I LOVE HIM SM😭😭

recently found ur page and im obsessed, ur such an amazing writer!

ahh!! thank you so much <333 i really needed this today :)

Final Girl (Part 2)

Final Girl Series Masterlist (currently updated parts 1 - 9 and extras) 

A/N this one’s a bit of a filler but it’s needed and i’m looking forward to part 3!! a scene in part 3 inspired this entire fic :)) also i love feedback!! comments make my day and motivate me to write :)) so if you’re so inclined,, i’d love to hear your thoughts :) 

also lmk if you’d like to be tagged!!

Fandom: (original) Scream

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: The only good thing that’s come from Casey’s murder and your injuries is that your good friends Billy and Stu are determined to help you. 

also i made the reader’s birthday Halloween bc it helps the plot and i love halloween and am so jealous of fall birthdays!! So on the really good chance that your birthday isn’t on Halloween, just go with it!! Also I named the mom character bc the reader’s connection to her mom is kinda specific and relevant for plot and that felt easier lol 

Warnings: maybe a tiny bit too fluffy in some parts but there’s a reason for it!! also gaslighting and the beginning of emotional manipulation (it’s billy and stu, y’all should’ve expected it lol)

----

I’ve always hated hospitals. Waking up with bandages I don’t remember getting placed on me just to receive the news of Casey’s death certainly hasn’t made me grow fonder of them. If anything, each additional second I spend in this hospital cot adds to the agony in my body.

“Miss L/n, are you feeling any better?” Nurse Samantha’s voice is cautious and smooth, but not overly peppy like Nurse Molly’s. 

In another life, in another situation, I might have really liked Nurse Samantha. She gave me extra Jell-O when she noticed that it was the only thing from my tray that I picked at. She was the only one willing to be honest about Casey’s death with me. But this isn’t another life or situation, so when I look at her, all I can think about is what it felt like to wake up here. Alone. 

But that’s not her fault, so instead of attempting to get out of this damn bed again, I just nod slowly. “A little.” My voice is so hollow and hoarse that it sounds wrong in my ears. 

She waits for me to clear my throat before speaking again. “Your boyfriends are here to see you, but if you’re not up for visitors--” 

“Boyfriends?” My voice is slightly less gritty than it was when I first spoke. “I don’t have a boyfriend, let alone a plural amount of them.” 

Nurse Samantha’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh, my apologies,” she then tilts her head slightly, leaning against the doorframe of the hospital room. “But you might want to consider breaking that news to the two boys that have been harassing our receptionist since a little after you arrived.” 

My eyebrows draw together in confusion. What is she--

“You said she was awake, which meant she could take visitors, so take us--” 

Yeah, even in my state, that voice cleared everything up. “Billy.” 

He’s close enough to Nurse Samatha to tower over her, but when he snaps his head in my direction, all sense of anger is gone. In an instant, he’s in my room. I must be more out of it than I thought, because I’m slightly surprised when Stu comes in right behind him. 

“Visiting hours are technically over, but considering what you’ve been through and the late time you were brought in, I can make a bit of an exception. If you need anything, press the call button.” 

I nod again, a little more grateful for Nurse Samatha than I was before. Not only do I love the idea of not being alone here, I’m also glad she decided to let Billy and Stu in before they got irritated. I know I haven’t known them that long, but I think Billy has a bit more of a temper than he’d like to let on, and Stu takes not getting his way personally. 

“Okay, thank you.” 

She disappears down the hall after a quick nod of her head. 

Billy has pulled forward one of the hospital room’s chairs so that he’s sitting as close to my bed as possible. He grabs my hand as soon as he’s settled. His fingers are squeezing mine so tightly it’s slightly uncomfortable. “Hi.”

His greeting is oddly hesitant, maybe even a little nervous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Billy this unsure before. “Hey.” 

The silence that falls over us after that is serious. Much too serious for Stu to just stand on the sidelines in silence. Actually, it’s weird that Stu’s on the sidelines at all. What’s his deal? He never needs an excuse to be touchy and now that I actually need a hug, he’s choosing to keep his distance. Where was this restraint when I made eye contact with a cute boy during lunch and Stu decided that that’d be the perfect time to rest his head on my shoulder? 

I tear my gaze away from Billy’s hard stare, ready to call out Stu for being so weird. But then I see his expression. His face is oddly pale and his eyes are wide and kind of blank. 

“Stu, I’m fine, you can’t catch a concussion.”

Instead of taking the out and making some kind of joke, Stu’s expression falls even more. “A concussion?” 

Oh. Maybe Stu’s more worried than I thought. “Relax, we don’t know anything for sure. Concussions can take up to days to form, it hasn’t been long enough.” He doesn’t seem eased. “Would you stop looking at me like that? I’m fine, Casey’s the one that--” My voice catches on itself. Nope—still can’t even say it. “Would you please just come over here and be normal? I’m tired and I-I really want to pretend that I’m not in a hospital and I can’t do that with you staring at me like I’m on death’s doorstep.” 

His eyebrows draw together, but all he does is shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Stu,” Billy’s voice comes out so low and harsh I find myself gaping at him. “Y/n is asking you for one thing. For you to be normal.” 

On a normal night, I’d brush off their tension with some kind of joke or laugh. It’s not the first time I’ve ever witnessed the way they disappear into each other. A slightly longer than average glance or a simple sentence is all it takes to initiate one of their silent exchanges. Whenever they get like that, I can’t help but wonder what they’re like when they’re alone. 

Stu nods once, the motion oddly stiff, but then his eyes move so that he’s looking at me. And just like that, they’re back. Stu shuffles towards me. He moves like he wants to hug me but can’t figure out a tactful way to do it with all the wires connected to me. He settles for a gentle, barely there shoulder squeeze. It’s so awkward and unusually gentle I find an unexpected fondness tugging at my chest. 

He lets go of me, his hand moving forward to allow the knuckle of his pointer finger to graze the edge of the cotton bandage on my forehead. “It’s okay, Stu.” When he doesn’t ease, I continue, “No stitches. Doctor said it won’t even scar.” 

With that, Stu softens completely. He grabs the hand that Billy isn’t holding. “Won’t even scar, huh?” 

His easiness is infectious. “Nope.” 

“Good thing, too,” Billy says, “Wouldn’t want anything hurting that pretty face.”

My eyes widen slightly, heat rushing to my cheeks. “Shut up, I’m a total mess right now. I’m literally in the hospital.” 

“And you still look like an angel.” If I thought that the earlier comment had me struggling to form a coherent thought, this is something else. I hate how stunned into silence I am, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s totally reveling in my reaction. “Don’t even think a scar could make you less pretty.” 

Weakly, I try to cover how sentimental I’m feeling. “I almost got murdered, you have to be nice to me.” 

Billy exaggeratedly frowns. “I’m always nice to you.” 

I pretend to contemplate his words. “Mm...nice-ish.” 

There’s something oddly comforting about Billy’s mock gasp. It’s a display of the softer side of him that I’ve only ever caught glimpses of. “Now who’s mean?”

“Still you.” 

Billy rolls his eyes at Stu’s reply. I turn, expression easing at the look on Stu’s face. “You’re on my side?” 

“Always,” he hums pleasantly, thumb running along my knuckles. He’s definitely lying. Billy and Stu seem to understand each other in way that I’ve never seen between two people, but the gesture is still nice.

The realization that I’m really glad that they’re here settles into me comfortably, in a content sort of way. “I’m happy you guys are here.”

Stu tilts his head, his free hand moving to gently catch my chin between his thumb and pointer finger. I blink, eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. He’s staring, analyzing me with a focus I didn’t think he was capable of. “You’re cute when you’re high.” My lips part in protest, but before I can get any words out, Stu continues, “You probably watched your friend get gutted, they definitely gave you something strong.” 

I frown, sinking further into the hospital bed without thinking about it. Noticing my reaction, Billy throws a dirty look in Stu’s direction before leaning over me in order to punch Stu’s arm. “Shut up.”

“What? She knows I didn’t mean it in any bad way.” He then turns to look back at me. “You know that, right?” 

I’m not exactly in the mood to brush off Stu’s insensitivity the way I normally would, and I don’t think I have the energy to humor him--but I also can’t bring myself to alienate them. I nod once, the motion tired and vague.

Billy runs his thumb over my knuckles gingerly, brining my attention back to him. “You did say you wanted him to be normal.” 

At that, I almost laugh. “Yeah, that’s on me.” A moment of silence passes, and for whatever reason, I don’t like it. “Y’know, I didn’t see anything. I-I was knocked out before it happened.” I can’t believe I’m talking about this. “I didn’t even know what happened to Casey until one of the nurses told me so that I’d cooperate with police questioning.” 

“The police already questioned you?” Billy’s question comes out too fast, too urging. “We’ve been waiting to be able to see you for hours, we didn’t know if y--” 

“Billy.” Some hard to name aspect of his personality takes on a darker shade, but he does stop ranting. So much for getting used to slightly more lighthearted Billy. “If it makes you feel any better, I was asleep for most of the time. One of the nurses had to borderline sedate me because I kept trying to pull out my IV and disconnect the heart monitor.” 

Instead of finding humor in my admission, the corner of Billy’s mouth turns downwards. 

“Why?” Stu asks Billy’s silent question before tacking on something to ease the tension, “This stuff looks important.” 

My nose wrinkles. There’s no good way to describe the panic I felt when I woke up here. No way to summarize the need I felt to be anywhere but the hospital. The desire to see Casey and be told that everything was just a bad dream. “Just didn’t want to be here,” I explain weakly, “I didn’t know what was going on and I freaked.” 

Stu’s eyebrows draw together. I’m too tired to hide the way I study him. It’s not that he’s never serious (though it is kind of rare), but there’s something strange beneath the way he’s looking at me. His eyes seem dark, tired and emphasized by the bruise forming near the top of his cheek.

Now it’s my turn to frown openly. Slowly, I pull my fingers from his grasp. Stu lets me move my hand towards his face with no reaction until my fingers just barely graze the line of barely formed purple.

He catches my wrist between his pointer finger and thumb, his grip just a little too tight. “You okay, angel?” 

The nickname leaves my face a degree or two warmer. Stu grins in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Your face is bruised--what happened?” 

“You’re in the hospital and you’re worried about me?” He lets out a breath, demeanor shifting back into something easier.

I roll my eyes, glad that his strange worry is passing. “Shut up.” 

His hold on my wrist loosens. Stu twists my hand in order to press a quick kiss to the inside of my wrist, right above my pulse. “Billy and I were going to watch a movie. He threw the tape at me a little too hard when I wasn’t paying attention. Between you and me, I think he did it on purpose.” 

Billy sighs, throwing a mean look in Stu’s direction. “I told you I was going to give it to you right before--” 

“Yeah, give not throw--” 

“You were right next to the VC--” 

“Guys.” My interruption isn’t particularly loud, but they both instantly shut up. On a normal night, I really doubt that would have worked. I guess being in the hospital has its perks. “I’ve dealt with enough conflict.” 

After a second, Billy concedes, “You’re right.” He squeezes my hand once, eyes softening. “I can’t believe the police questioned you right after you woke up. You must have been so confused,” his thumb runs up and down my knuckles, “Probably still are. You can’t be sure about anything you picked up on.” 

An uneasy feeling I can’t name settles in my chest. The police were the ones that insisted on speaking to me as soon as possible, but if I accidentally gave them anything that leads to an inaccurate lead, I’m not sure I’d be able to forgive myself. “It was a man, I know that. I know that I wasn’t confused about that.” That was something I told the officers confidently. The voice on the other line was masculine and distinct and my attacker was too large and tall to likely be a woman. “I didn’t really remember anything else.” 

The memories of right before are seared into my mind perfectly. Casey and her polaroid camera, the phone, the popcorn. Or--or was it the other way around? Did I make the popcorn before or after the phone call? Did Casey come in with the movies before or after she took those pictures of me? 

What were her last words? 

I can’t remember them and for some reason, that makes me feel guilty. He wants to talk to you. That’s when she gave me the phone for the last time. The phone I threw at the killer’s head. Did it hit him? And then she screamed. Wait, no, she clasped her hand over her mouth. She didn’t scream until the glass broke. And then...there was a second scream much later, a much more pained, animalistic sound. 

My mouth goes dry. That might have been the last sound Casey ever made. I heard it, but I was too busy trying to escape the killer to pick up on it. Which would mean she was killed while I was being attacked. Which means...

“Hey, don’t think about it too hard. Don’t think about anything too hard, you said it yourself, you hit your head.” Billy’s voice is soft yet assured. He’s right, I know he’s right, and yet I can’t snap out of it. 

“I,” my throat aches, a part of me regrets sending away the nurse before she could bring me ice chips, “I think there were two of them.” 

The admission is so slow and unsure I instantly feel the need to defend it. “Maybe. I-I mean, I don’t--” I squeeze my eyes shut so tightly all I can see are stars that turn my stomach. The sharp ache in my head is returning. “I didn’t remember before, but now that I’m thinking about it--Casey ran while I was being attacked and I heard her scream. And not just a scared scream, it was the kind of scream that victims in a scary movie let out right before they die. I think what happened to Casey happened while I was still awake. Which would mean there were two of them.” 

The two gape at me before glancing at each other. Their silence feels like some kind of reproach that tears at my insides. Stu breaks the quiet with a laugh. A loud, free kind of laugh that’s usually only ever used after the kind of inappropriate joke that earns him some kind of scolding from Tatum. 

“You’re cute,” Stu hums with the kind of fondness a parent would use towards a child that proudly declares insanely unrealistic goals. Sure you’ll be the first president in space, here, have a gold star for being so creative. “This isn’t one of those books you read or a project for newspaper. This is about a real murderer that probably got hard watching you try to fight him off of you and finished to the feeling of killing Casey.” 

I flinch. A full body, knee jerk reaction that has me pulling both of my hands away from them. Blinking, I cross my arms across my chest. I’m tired and the irritated frustration and embarrassment running through me aren’t making things easier.

The look on my face is probably only making me look more childish. I’m only a grade behind them, but it’s come up before. Only in a semi-joking way after a particularly naive reaction to something. Like the time Stu made a vague sex joke that everyone rolled their eyes at but I missed. Need me to explain it, kid. Stu had said, emphasizing the nickname to further embarrass me before Tatum smacked him in the arm. If she’s a kid, then that was a total pedo move. 

Billy punches Stu’s arm again. This time he’s harsher. “You’re an asshole.” Billy then looks at me, expression placid with understanding. “Do you really think there were two of them?” 

“I--” Now my already rickety train of thought feels even more unsteady. “I don’t know. It was just a thought. My memory of right before has been kind of iffy.”  I scratch the back of my wrist, eyes focused on where my skin meets the plastic of the IV. “But shouldn’t I say something? Just in case? The police said that if I remembered anything a little more I should call.” 

“You’re the one in AP Psych--aren’t most serial killers loners?” 

The urge to rip off the tape that’s holding the IV in place leaves my fingers itching to do something. I tap my nails against thin hospital sheets. “We don’t talk about that kinda stuff, but yeah, I guess.” 

Billy’s gaze flits away from my hands and towards my face. “So that means it’s unlikely for there to be two of them.” That’s a fair point, or at least, a point that’s a lot fairer than Stu’s. “You can say something if you want, but they’re so desperate for leads they questioned you right away. And we both know that police officers aren’t necessarily the most driven.” He’s gently referencing my mother’s boyfriend, who’s a cop and the bane of my existence. Billy and Stu both know exactly how I feel about him. “What if it does more harm than good?” 

I frown, letting his words slowly sink in. Maybe if my head felt less sore and my body less far away, I’d be reacting a little more. “Yeah,” I mumble, “I’ll wait, see if it’s something I actually remember or not.”

The corner of Billy’s mouth turns upwards. “Good, would hate to throw off your step-dad.” 

My glare is violent, which only fuels his smile. “That man is not my step-father. You know that.”

“Leave her alone, Billy,” Stu mumbles. I turn my head forward, gaze shifting upwards. Stu’s eyes are softer than they’ve been all night. He reaches for me, expression falling when I pull my hand back at the last second. “Aw, baby, don’t be like that.” My hand stays near my chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for laughing, I’m sorry for what I said about you and your friend.” I try to glare at him through my lashes, but the look feels like more of a pout than anything. “Don’t give me that look.” He moves his hand again, placing it on my cheek before I can protest. “C’mon, hurting your feelings is like kicking a puppy.” 

Some instinct forces me to ease into the contact. Even though my shift is small, Stu picks up on it, because of course he does. My reaction unfortunately encourages him. His thumb gently brushes up and down my cheek. “Then don’t be mean.” 

It’s a sad attempt at holding onto my anger, and I’m sure all three people in the room know it. “Promise,” Stu nods, “Anything you want.” I thought he was laying it on thick as some kind of joke, but when I look into his eyes, I don’t see anything that indicates his usual brand of teasing humor. “I’ll even watch one of those lame chick flicks you’re always talking about with the girls.” 

A small, awkward noise that’s a hybrid of a scoff and a laugh escapes me. “Clueless may be my guilty pleasure, but it is not lame.” 

Stu kind of smiles, but he’s still stiff. “Still. I’ll watch it, whatever you want.” His touch loses all sense of hesitance. “You know I’d-I’d never hurt you. Not really hurt you.” 

“Stu.” Billy’s voice comes out a little too heavy, but I can’t look away from Stu.

“I’d never do anything to really hurt you, angel, you know that, right?” There’s something urging about the way he’s speaking. He’s waiting for an answer. 

I think of Stu, who I’ve only known for a little while but also forever somehow in a weird way. Stu, who’s always throwing an arm around my shoulders. Stu, who seems to know when I’m getting nervous before I do. Stu, who is always willing to hold my hand or say the wrong thing when I need a laugh. Stu, who’s always touching me but I’ve never thought twice about it until right now because he’s like that with everyone. 

Still, though, there’s usually something a little strange about the way his touch feels. More often than not, there’s a tension I don’t understand beneath his fingertips. Like he’s almost always trying to restrain the urge to hold on harder, to squeeze tighter, to keep pushing. 

I don’t know what that’s about, but I know that he always stops. That he’s never caused me any real pain. For all I know, he’s just so energetic that he has to constantly remind himself of his own strength. “Yeah, I know, Stu.”

My words are too honest. Something in Stu relaxes and that’s when I realize he wants me to be sure enough for the both of us. It’s an incredibly unfair--and weird--thing to ask for. 

Something flickers across Stu’s expression, but it’s quickly replaced by a grin. A genuine one. He leans down, pressing a shocking kiss to my forehead. My gaping doesn’t take away from his enthusiasm. “Does this mean I’m going to actually have to watch that movie?” 

“Oh, one hundred percent. No chance of getting out of it. Billy too.” 

Billy’s eyebrows draw together. “I didn’t make you any promises.” 

I feign a hurt look as best I can, turning my head to better face Billy. “I, your friend, was almost murdered and you can’t put aside your surprisingly good, but let’s admit it, pretentious taste for one movie?” He gives me a hard look, but it lacks any bite. “You know, if the killer comes back for me, you’re going to feel so guilty about saying no.” Billy must feel a little bad for me in some sense because at least he’s letting me continue this rant. “It’ll haunt you--I’ll haunt you.” 

He tilts his head downwards, the front strands of his hair falling forward. It’s an attempt to distract from the fact that he almost smiled. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.” 

I roll my eyes dramatically. “That was like the least important part of my argument.” 

“It was the main part of your argument.” Billy ignores my extremely pointed sigh. “Fine, compromise: a movie I pick, and then after, we can play your movie.” 

Biting my tongue, I fight down a grin and force myself to narrow my eyes. “Nothing too gore-y or stab-y.” 

“Deal.” He sighs the word like he can’t believe what he’s been conned in to. 

The feeling of having enough influence over these two to get them to agree to something like this leaves me beaming. They’re likely going to complain the whole time, but still, it’s the thought that counts. “No take backs, even when I’m out of the hospital.” A subconscious part of my mind begs me to yank out the IV and try to get out of here. “Which should be as soon as my mom gets here.” 

My mom and Wells were on a date--a show and a fancy dinner somewhere two towns over. The nurses and police assured me that my mom had been contacted, and that she was doing all she could to get here as soon as possible. But with traffic and the amount of time it took for them to get ahold of her, I’m not surprised that Billy and Stu beat her here. Actually, no, it is a little surprising. We didn’t have plans together that I missed and I’m not sure they’ve ever called me unexpectedly. Who told them I was here?

“How’d you guys know I was here?” The question is just as unexpected to me as it is to them. 

“Stu was over when your mom called me,” Billy says, ignoring the way I raise my eyebrows, “She said she still had my number from the time you called me from her phone when we were working on that history project, remember?” I nod, still in disbelief. 

Billy has been in my house twice. Both times were to work on the same project. My mom spent both of those times watching him like he was a danger to my entire future. I think in her head she was being subtle, but I can’t blame Billy for noticing. 

I give him a semi apologetic look. “You’re making it sound like my mom hates you.” He gives me a look that silently asks if I’m kidding. “She doesn’t hate you.” 

“Really?” 

“She doesn’t!” I sigh once, my face already feeling warm as I struggle to figure out how to best word my thoughts. “She doesn’t hate you, she just--” Ugh, there’s no non awkward way to say this. "On Halloween, I’m going to be 17. That’s the same age she was when she had me. She just worries and she’s going to keep worrying and giving any guy I’m friends with a hard time until I’m in college.” 

Billy pauses, letting the implications of my explanation sink in. With no warning, he pulls the sheets down just enough to expose a bit of my thigh. “So she’s worried that I’m gonna knock you up,” he teases, punctuating the comment by quickly pinching the newly exposed skin. 

My face has never been this hot in my life. I laugh, the sound somehow both lighthearted and nervous. “Shut. Up.”

Another rough yet brief pinch to exposed skin leaves me almost jumping out of my skin. I look up at Stu, glaring as he barely attempts to fight down a laugh. “Stu!” 

“What? I could knock you up just as easily.” 

I let out a sound that’s basically a snort. "That’s such a weird thing to want to be included in.” 

Stu half shrugs, placing a hand back on my thigh. Instead of pinching me again or doing something brief, he comfortably moves his hand up and down the expanse of visible skin. “The process would be fun.”

He’s joking, He’s joking. This is Stu--he’s definitely joking. Snap out of it, don’t be weird. I blink, coming to some sort sense. Pulling my legs forward, in an attempt to brush him off, I force myself to meet his gaze. “Fun for you maybe.” 

“I’d rock your world, babe.” I’m ready to roll my eyes, but before I can Stu moves his hand, pressing it firmly into my upper thigh. He slides his hand forward, his fingertips digging into the start of my inner thigh. I struggle against the instinctual need to press my thighs together. “You’d be begging to go again before we even finished.” 

In all fairness, I should have known better than to challenge one of those kinds of joke coming from Stu. He doesn’t know when to stop and doesn’t feel satisfied until I’m flustered. My brain must be as mushy as it feels, because I find myself digging my heels into the sand. “Pretty sure you’re all talk.” 

He tilts his head downwards, eyes darkening. “I’ll prove you wrong right now.” His fingers press even deeper into my skin. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found small, fingerlike bruises on my thigh tomorrow. 

“Mhm,” I manage after a long second, “There’s a supply closet in the hallway, give me a second to disconnect from all this and I’ll meet you there.” His expression is too good for me not to laugh. “Relax, I’m messing with you.”

“Haha,” he mumbles dryly, but makes no attempt to move his hand. And for some reason that I’m sure is head trauma or pain killer related, I don’t do anything to get him off of me. “You’re hilarious.” 

I poorly suppress another laugh. Stu frowns. Oh my god. There’s no way he’s going to be a baby about this. He’s the one that found a reason to put his hand between my legs and I haven’t smacked him upside the head for it. “Don’t pout. You had to have known I was kidding the entire time.” 

“Yeah, if she wanted to go to the supply closet with anyone, it’d be me.” I’m not sure if I’m more surprised by Billy’s comment or the way he says it. He’s much more evidently joking than Stu. The look he gives me after makes that clear. 

But there’s still something pointed about the way he said it. Pointed in a way that’s not meant for me. It’s another thing between him and Stu. I know I should make some kind of equally teasing comment just to keep everything normal, but I can’t help but sneak a glance at Stu. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something distinct about the turn of his head. More pressure is added to my thigh. Okay--that’s starting to become uncomfortable. 

“Alright,” I finally decide on, forcing a partial laugh into my voice, “We are dangerously close to either a bunch of threesome jokes or another one of those play fights over me.” I grab Stu’s hand by the wrist, moving it off my thigh before relaxing my legs. “And I do not have the energy for either.” 

Stu turns his hand over in order to press our palms together. I let him link our fingers. “You brought up threesomes pretty quickly.” 

My mouth falls open. “What?” 

“Fantasy or--” 

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Stuart.”

He holds up his free hand in defense, but he doesn’t have a chance to make some kind of comment. 

“Oh my god!” I’d know that panicked gasp anywhere. It’s been the same my entire life. One of my earliest memories includes that exact same shout, a bloody knee, and a tricycle that let me fall off the side walk and onto the (thankfully empty) road. 

Mom! “Okay, i know--” 

“Don’t you dare try to calm me down!” She reaches me in a flurry of motion that’s so her I can’t help but feel comforted. Stu steps out of the way after a second and my mom closes the distance between us, her fingers gripping the bed’s railing. “Oh my god, a concussion? You could be one of those professional football players--don’t they all have to retire early?” 

She presses the back of her palm to my forehead like I might have some kind of fever. I actually wouldn’t be surprised if she demanded the doctors perform more tests on me because something about me didn’t feel right. “Mom, be serious. Since when do you know anything about football?” 

Ignoring my response, she moves to cup my cheek. “I am so sorry it took me so long to get here. We were in the theatre when they first called and our cell phones were completely off. Never again.”

There’s so much emotion in her eyes I find myself feeling a lot less calm about everything. “It’s fine, how could you have known?” She’s still staring at me with so much maternal concern. Being so directly motherly is rare in our dynamic. If anything, I’ve spent just as much of my life parenting her as she has raising me. “I slept for most of the time, and when I woke up I had good company.” 

At that, my mom looks at Stu, analyzing his appearance. I’m ready to squirm for him. She then shifts her gaze to Billy and I bite my tongue to resist making some kind of joke. 

Her lips part and I fight the urge to interject, but then all she says is, “Thank you. I-I couldn’t think of anyone else I could call so late that knew her.” 

Billy’s expression is blank, but his silence lets me know that he’s as surprised as me. “No problem,” he finally settles on, “Wouldn’t have wanted her here all alone.” 

My mom nods once. She then looks over at Stu, “We haven’t met. I’m Gloria, Y/n’s mom.” 

I have spent my entire life dealing with reactions to people finding out my mom is my mom. I love her to death, but I don’t always love the way guys my age react. She’s pretty, I can’t be mad about that, but she’s also young and cool and I’ve had guy friends be super weird about it in the past. And she’s wearing a date night outfit. A dress that’s just a little too short that I’m pretty sure she stole out of my closet. 

And I know Stu. I know that he rarely filters through his thoughts before speaking. “I’m Stu,” he says normally, “I was over at Billy’s when you called.” 

My mom nods, processing the information before turning her attention back to me. I draw my eyebrows together, giving Stu a look. “Did they run tests on you?” 

“Yeah.” 

Answering was pointless, she’s already turning towards the hall. My mom waves down some poor, unsuspecting nurse. “You--I’m her mother,” she points back to me, “I want-I want her chart read to me, and I want every single possible test you could run done.” The doctor blinks. “If it’s something that could have been harmed, I want it checked out, I don’t care how unlikely--” 

“Ma’am,” the nurse finally says, “I can personally assure that your daughter received excellent care. I worked with her myself and her vitals have been regularly checked. I understand that this is an emotional time, but--” 

“If you tell me to calm down, I will sue this entire damn hospital and then find a way to personally sue you.” She takes a breath to prepare for her upcoming war path. “So go get a doctor. Now.” 

The nurse’s tired eyes widen before he scurries off. “Mom!” She turns to me, giving me a look that’s barely apologetic. “Relax a little, okay? They ran like a thousand tests on me already. They even said that if you approved, I could leave tonight.” 

“No way,” she gasps the words like the thought alone offended her. An instinctual, embarrassing whine escapes me. “Sorry, kid, complain all you want but you’re overnighting it.” 

Even though Billy and Stu are literally right here, I pout. “That’s so unfair! When you had complications after getting your appendix out, you signed yourself out even though everyone thought it was a bad idea.” 

“Totally different situations and you know it.” I glare at her. “Look, I know I’ve made a point of not doing this too often, but I’m pulling the mom card.” She ignores my frown, “Wells is already making calls and seeing what he can do--and do not roll your eyes, he is not some ‘monster that’s trying to ruin your life’.” 

“I only called him that once,” I mumble petulantly. “And you’re in my dress.” It’s a stupid thing to point out, but she’s being completely unreasonable. 

“You left home this morning in my skirt.” Ugh, why does she always have to have some kind of point? “I’m going to tell Wells that we’re staying.” 

Leaving no room for argument, my mom turns on her heels and leaves the room. Once it’s just the three of us again, an unfamiliar shyness rises up my chest. I know feeling awkward is such a small thing compared to everything else, but Billy and Stu are definitely thinking and analyzing that entire interaction. Their silence is starting to unease me. 

“Okay guys,” I say, eyes focused on the hands in my lap, “Let it out. I know you’ve got some kinda rea—“

“Your mom is hot!” These kinds of reactions aren’t unfamiliar to me, but from Stu, it kind of bugs me more than I thought it would. I don’t know why--I mean, he’s the exact kind of person to react like that. “I totally see where you get it from, babe. Amazing genes.” 

My eyes widen, “Stu, I get your sense of humor, but my mom doesn’t.” I drop my voice as I whisper, “Cool it with the nicknames as long as she’s in the same building.” 

“So now you’re embarrassed of me? I’m not good enough to bring home to mom?” 

I might kill him. “I’m serious--try anything and I. Will. End. You.” 

“You threatening me is really getting me going.” 

Rolling my eyes, I don’t even bother replying to that comment. I then turn towards Billy, who seems a little too amused by all of this. “I feel a little better about you, but same rules apply.” 

Stu gives me a particularly hurt look. “Him you trust?” 

“He’s met her before!”

With a sigh, I sink further into the hospital bed. They’re both being quiet. Stu made a comment about my mom, but I honestly expected more. I was mentally preparing myself for jokes about me being a mama’s girl or a little kid. Stu’s expression is something I don’t understand and Billy isn’t looking at me. He’s staring ahead, face stoic. He’s somewhere else now. 

“Billy?” My voice is soft, hesitant.

He blinks, the corner of his mouth pulling downwards as his head turns. “Yeah?” His voice reveals nothing. 

I didn’t think ahead enough to have a question to ask him. He doesn’t seem like the type to want anyone noting his feelings. “You okay?” I regret my awkward phrasing instantly. “You um...for a second looked kinda,” my noise wrinkles as I struggle to think of the right word that won’t offend him, “Wistful almost?” 

He side eyes me and I can’t even blame him. “I look wistful?” 

Billy nearly smiles at the look on my face. That alone makes my embarrassment worth it. “I said looked--past tense.” 

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes a little darker than before. I don’t break his stare until the sound of footsteps entering the room becomes impossible to ignore. A nurse has entered the room, likely due to my mother’s insistence. “It looks like you’re going to be busy, Stu and I should go.” 

Oh. I don’t know why that makes my heart sink the way it does. It’s logical--my mom’s here now and she’s going to force them to scan me with every single machine in this hospital. Maybe it’s because they calmed me down or maybe it’s because they’re the first familiar faces I saw, but the thought of them leaving bothers me. 

Stu squeezes my shoulder, his fingers lingering as he pulls away. “Yeah, babe, you don’t need us around while they poke and prod you.” 

The description of what I’m going to be doing makes me frown. They’re approaching the doorway. “Guys,” my voice surprises me. They both turn to look at me, and once again, I don’t know what I want to say. Do I want to ask them to stay? There’s no way that’s normal. My mom’s here--it wouldn’t work out anyways. “Thank you,” I mumble, “Thanks for coming and staying with me and making sure I didn’t have a complete meltdown. I appreciate it.” 

Billy’s looking at me in that way that makes me want to shrink into myself. Not that there’s anything particularly wrong or uncomfortable about the way he’s staring, it just feels so sharp and analytical. “Anytime, angel.” 

“Yeah, couldn’t leave you here all alone,” Stu says, “Call me when you get out, okay?” 

I nod, smiling a bit. “Duh--don’t think I’m going to forget about the movie promise you made me, and you can’t back out because hospital bed promises are like way more serious than regular promises.”

Billy throws me a look I can only think to describe as ‘bitchy’ and Stu rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” Stu mumbles, “Take advantage.” 

They manage to leave me grinning as they disappear out of the doorway. I don’t know what it is about them, but they always manage to make me feel...safe, I guess. I can’t remember the last time anyone made me feel like that.