Chapter Text
"Ow!" Stu wailed, "Fuckin' hit me with the phone, DICK!"
His jaw popped at the sound of his cry, and an atrocious buzz allotted itself to his aching body.
Stu's perception went blurry, eventually listening to nothing but a haze of outcries and dejection from his partner in crime. He tried to pay interest to the man in a fit of resentment, but the white t-shirt departing a corridor evolved into one line fading into black.
Striking the wood with his cranium, his delicate gaze fixated on the telephone wire still connected to another line. Blood percolating through his body, staining the tight-lipped phone. He swallowed greedily, unable to generate another phrase from his vocal cords.
It didn't take long for Stu to entirely lose consciousness and ease on the slab from blood loss.
Tormented in a flaming rage, Billy fumed into the living room.
He clawed the couch cushions, hoping to reflect a mark of struggle with corn syrup, but was left with nothing more than a reflection of mere cat scratches. He sunk his nails deeper into the bolsters, prying them from the couch frame and swiftly hurling them at the wall.
Billy inhaled, able to taste the residue of fresh blood and copper slipping from his nostrils. He licked his lips, vindicating them of blood.
He had wanted this, and he wanted it badly. For a year now, he could vividly fantasize about the suffering and grief he could inflict on Sidney Prescott, the Woodsboro heartthrob. He even considered himself somewhat envious of her— she got all the notoriety without toil while he was working his ass off to keep his face concealed.
And that just wasn't fair.
Billy snarled, pivoting his attention to the wall, yet never taking another step.
His gaze fell in line with polaroids of himself, Stu and Sidney on the wall, reminiscing the juncture of when they were a new couple and how he'd frequently tag along.
Gritting his teeth, he shredded the photo in half with one swipe, forewarning the house Billy wasn't in the best situation to be presumed with. It was an abrupt swipe, one more rapidly than a lion inclined to prance onto a gazelle.
Billy whirled his attention once more onto the closet door, his head whipping up to notice Halloween on VHS revealing the segment of a blonde girl trapped in a closet. His body reacted in a chuckle, yet not a sound of laughter emit from his lips.
Smirking like an idiot who just won the lottery, his hand squeezed onto the closet door handle. As he tried unlatching the hand downwards, it sent the message that this was the girl's safe zone.
This was too easy.
Billy backed up, prepared to ram his entire torso into the doorframe. His blade positioned away from his body, sloping his knees slightly, and a smile he would never forget, he lunged forward into the door unlatching—
Halting him at the sensation of a knife puncturing into the right side of his ribcage.
A sharp inhale was earned as his knees struggled to maintain his balance, too stunned to even assimilate the armed ghost mask staring at him.
Or was it staring at someone else?
Billy maintained one eye open at the sensation of sudden pain, more blood dripping from his chapped lips. He wasn't astonished when he felt the impression of a shoe collide with the back of his knees, hurling his injured torso on the ground.
The Ghostface, situated with an umbrella for a weapon, rejected the idea of breaking eye contact. Still cautious, the figure kept the weapon posted in its hands, eyeing the man using the wall for support.
"S..." Billy stuttered, "...Stu?"
Chest throbbing quicker than a guest knocking on a door, Stu did his best to crease a smile. It was one of revenge but also one of sadness.
"That was for the phone," He spat.
Generating a wad of saliva, Loomis spat more blood onto Stu's shirt. His pupils dilated at Stu's unexpected retaliation. With a quick jab across the face, Billy was sure another good swing would break his jaw.
"Sid, I know you don't like me right now, and frankly, I would not trust me if I were you," Stu commented, "But I'm asking you to do it now. Go upstairs. Run into a room and lock the door."
"You bitch!" Billy hollered, "I'm gonna kill—!"
With the last bits of strength he had, Stu plummeted his shoe into Billy's stomach as he hauled the knife still inside his physique, and sloped it deeper with an intent to hit an organ. He was too irritated to care about Billy's wails and coughs of discomfort.
From the corner of his eye, Stu's attention heeded to the girl in the costume scrambling up the stairs. He waited, listening for the tone of a latch sealing herself in a room upstairs.
"Wh..." Billy choked in wonder, "Why...?"
"Why?" Stu repeated, "Why."
He cracked up, marveling at the sight in front of him.
"WHY?!" He recited with too much enthusiasm.
Stu had the choice to entertain Billy with his word selection whether it was gonna be a clever remark or something stupid, Billy understood it was worth listening to.
"Because I'm an idiot," He leaned in, an uncanny smile, "But you already knew that, didn't ya Billy?"
"Yeah, you are," Billy retorted, "You just fucking stabbed me."
"Want me to do it again?"
"That... wasn't an offer."
"Sorta sounded like it," Stu cackled.
The stab was nothing more than pure revenge. Not only had Stu concluded Billy scraped him that deep on purpose, but now he was at Stu's mercy— the only skepticism Stu had was the idea Billy was concealing another weapon.
Billy was agitated, his stomach flat against the floor and a shoe constraining his back like a soccer ball ready to be kicked. He was left immobile unless he wanted a curb stomp from the traitor.
"Enough with the bullshit," He huffed from the ground, "Why'd you change our plans?"
"Did I change our plans?" Stu asked himself, "Hmm, no. I was always gonna betray you... at some point, really. Did not think it was gonna be today though."
"Then why'd you waste two fucking years helping me?"
Stu snickered once more, impatiently replying, "See, you want a motive. We think motives are stupid, yada yada. But frankly, you hurt my feelings quite a lot, so you don't get to know—"
"Feelings," Billy raised an eyebrow, "Really?"
"Like that," He nodded, "Like you're doing right now."
"What am I supposed to say? 'I'm sorry you're stupid'?"
"And like that again!" Macher remarked.
"We had a deal," Billy muttered.
Stu maintained his shoe positioned on his back, persuaded by the thought of stomping his neck once and being alleviated with the result.
"See, THIS is the major twist of the movie!" Stu snickered, "You don't ever expect a killer to turn on each other, do ya? Nope! Don't think so!"
It went peaceful for a moment.
Billy was damn near the brink of defeat. He was powerless and vulnerable— coerced into the mercy of someone who was even more eccentric than himself.
Stu frowned as he was certain his eyebrows suppressed his vision, snatching the umbrella in the closet doorframe, a slight amount of regret evident in his face for what was about to happen next.
"What are you gonna do with me? Sid called police. They'll be here any minute. They'll take me away."
Stu took a quick glimpse to the door, "Yeah, that's the thing." He licked his lips, inspecting the umbrella, and managed to chuckle out, "I'm gonna stab you to death with this."
"You don't have the balls," Billy challenged, a sadistic grin molding onto his face, "You may have the physicality of a normal person but you'll forever be a pansy-ass psycho."
Insulted, Stu thought about unraveling the gadget to prevent him from watching his friend get maimed to pieces, but now? Now he felt an obligation to watch this sick fuck suffer.
"Like Betelgeuse always said," Stu gleamed, "It's showtime!"
“Beetlejuice isn’t a horror movie, dumb— ARGH!”
The stem of the umbrella pierced through the center of the back of his knee, pinning Billy even closer to the ground than before. His legs scraped across the ground for support, trying to retrieve any mobility left in his body, his mouth gaping open and wailing at the sensation of a shoe stomping onto his left tibial.
Billy knew this sort of pain— it was one of frustration and jealousy.
The injured teen attempted to catch his breath, but was promptly lifted off the ground by the hem of his shirt near his neck, able to discern small comments from the only other teen in a wave of hysteria.
“Get up,” Stu begged and repeated, “Get up!”
Refusing to release his clasp on Billy’s shirt, Stu whirled the teenager’s body into the wall, able to hear the wind knocked out of the feral teen. His frown never broke as he inspected the injuries he’s created.
Stu’s teeth clenched together, “You always thought I was stupid!”
Using the neck-lining of Billy’s shirt, he hurled BIlly into the closet door.
“Always, and I mean always putting me down!” Stu hollered, “And in front of Sid, too!”
Billy coughed, incapable of producing any words he wanted to rebuttal at the man in a fit of rage. His only question would be of Stu’s retaliation, but now Billy doubted he even needed to respond.
With another swift kick to Billy’s stomach, all the teenager could do was just accept the beating. He lost the game, lost his girl— and now the perfect ending of his movie.
“I hate you,” Stu hissed, “I hate you so much.”
Billy managed to cough a small puddle of blood from his jaw, staining the floor and his shirt. He didn’t expect a stomach beating to be this painful.
Stu wished he could say he felt bad, but his haze of rage and jealousy surpassed any other emotions he’s felt for quite some time.
“Sid didn’t deserve that, man,” Stu sobbed without tears, “The whole movie thing, it— it was just a stupid fantasy!”
Billy gaped open his mouth to reply, but no words formed. His gaze was stationed on the umbrella.
“And yet you forced me into this, thinking I was just gonna comply with whatever you said,” Stu huffed, “Well, if you had money or I got something in return, maybe this would be different.”
Low and weak, Billy managed to reply, “What would you have wanted…?”
Stu took a minute to think, his frown creasing downwards under both facial cheeks. He knew exactly what he wanted, but doubted he would ever get the chance to see it.
“Respect,” Stu lied, “To be treated like a normal person and not some loser that got affiliated with a psycho.”
“You… are a psycho,” Billy responded in an aggressive whisper, “Just not a good one.”
Stu snarled in distaste, spitting onto Billy’s oblique from afar. Swerving his head, he took a moment to glance at the polaroids along the wall.
They were a treasure to him, even if Billy or Sidney couldn’t see it in the current situation— which was going to make his final decision that much harder.
Billy, too weak at the knees to even attempt to move again, comprehended Stu made his decision. He forced his eyelids shut, anticipating the final impact.
The brunette grasped the umbrella for the final time, judging where the best spot to plunge the stained umbrella could get the job done quick and easy. He had other priorities buzzing in his head— but needed to savor this moment for the rest of his life.
“If you knew anything about those movies…” Stu began, elevating the umbrella in his arm.
Resisting the urge to open an eye, Billy only listened to the sound of Stu’s rambling. He could hear the wires of the umbrella scraping together.
Billy choked, “What?”
Clenching his open hand in a fist, Stu looked at the umbrella then at the injured psychopath on the ground. He cracked a slight smile, ensuring that the last image Billy will ever see is his friend smiling as he bludgeons him to death.
This was one of those exquisite smiles Billy would never forget even if he wanted to— it wasn’t one forced out of vengeance, but rather one of acceptance and defeat. After all, Billy wasn’t the only one about to lose something.
“The sequels are always shitty.”
***
After disposing Woodsboro from the demented psychopath, Stu hurled the umbrella aside like a flimsy pencil.
He groaned, latching his injuries with an open hand. Leaning onto the wall for support with his free hand, his eyes locked onto the staircase. Attempting to walk forward, he limped like a dog abandoned on the highway. Step after step, he used the stair railing to support his aching body.
There was something to be said about Stu’s determination. He may not have been the brightest of the duo but he was sure strong-willed when he needed to be. Maybe that’s even how they got away with it for so long.
Despite no tears dropping from his face, the blood streaming down his cheeks was a proper substitute. He wiped the blood, smearing it along his cheek and his face portrayed the image of regret and misery. He was too weak to care about his blood infecting the walls of his home as his hands dragged along the walls for support.
Grinding his teeth together, one eye settled open on the only sealed door in the hallway— the master bedroom. His body hauled itself along the walls, determined to reach the destination at the end of the upstairs corridor. He took a knock at the door, upset by the absence of any human acknowledgment.
“Sidney?” Stu pleaded to the sealed door.
Just as he expected, no response. He took a quick jab at the door once again, still hopeful that the master bedroom wasn’t a ghost town by now.
“Sid,” Stu begged.
“I don’t trust you,” Sidney voiced through the locked door.
A wave of relief in a sigh emerged through Stu’s lips. The girl was safe, but probably injured and traumatized from the events she heard downstairs. He grinned in relief, leaning the left side of his head against the door.
“Good,” He smiled, “You shouldn’t.”
"Is he dead?"
"Yes."
“Why’d you do that?” Sidney interrogated, “I was so sure you were on his side, then you turned on him and… and…This could possibly be another scheme but…”
She trailed, too stunned to even announce her feelings to the one person she should trust.
“Didn’t I tell ya, already?” Stu questioned, he swore Sidney could hear his smile through the door, “I always had a thing for you, Sid.”
Sidney leaned her head against the other side of the doorframe. Her hand was stationed on the small knob, tempted to open it and run into his arms. She was genuinely trying to trust him, but her perception of judgment due to the betrayal made her extremely cautious.
She stammered, “I…”
“You don’t need to say anything,” Stu assured and comforted the door, “Just relax. It’s okay… it’s over.”
Sidney’s hair brushed against the door, followed by her hand positioning itself on the doorframe. She closed her eyes, finding herself on the brink of unlatching the lock.
“Hey, I don’t wanna worry you but…” Stu gulped in pain, “I am kinda bleeding out over here.”
Sidney gulped, “Tell me…”
Stu did his best to shift his attention onto the door, even if his vision wasn’t clear anymore. He sank downwards, placing his back and head against the door for support.
“Tell me why he really killed my mother.”
Like his neck had been constricted with barbed wire, Stu managed to choke out an explanation, a fear that his words would slur together.
“He knew about my feelings, Sid,” Stu frowned, “He kept it a secret for me… He really did snap! Said that I had to prove my worth by going to the extreme, and he killed your mom as an example like those… horror movies," He wiped his nostrils clean from blood, a fresh tear stringing along his cheek, "The day I found out he murdered your mother was the day I swore I would betray him.”
He looked at the door.
Stu apologized, emerging a sob, “And I’m sorry I kept that a secret from you.”
The teenager waited for a response from the door, but his ability to stay conscious was like playing a game of heads or tails, not knowing what would happen next. When he didn’t receive a response, he swore he made his final reply.
“You’ve got no reason to trust me… and it’s okay. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
His vision blackened, eyelids fluttering shut as more blood oozed from his body. Gaping his mouth slightly open, the last thing he could do was focus on his breathing getting slower.
This wasn’t the way he expected to go out, but somehow, he was content with it.
Not only had he gotten his revenge that he’s plotted for quite some time, he had finally confessed to the girl that stole his heart. Maybe it took a longer time for him to admit it than he should’ve, but now he can truly die with no regrets, and was happy with that.
He could hear faint sirens screeching in the distance, red and blue lights emerging from the window frame. Even if he was about to bleed out despite proper aid just moments away, at least the girl had support out there waiting for her.
His eyes shot open at the door being whirled open behind him, falling into the knees of Sidney Prescott.
She swiftly kneeled, wrapping her arms on top of Stu’s shoulders and pressing the side of his head into her chest. Distress was evident on her face.
“I got you, Stu,” Sidney’s voice cracked but comforted, “I got you.”
There wasn’t anything else Stu could do but smile.
In an attempt of reassurance, he gently raised one palm and reassured her forearm sealed by clothing. His gaze enticed to shut once more, and all he could do was concentrate on his breathing.
It wasn’t quite easy to drift off into unconsciousness when all that rang through Stu’s ears was Sidney hyperventilating. He knew she was coated in his blood by now and worried she would pass out as well from shock.
“Hey,” Stu notified her, placing his hand behind her ear and swiping away the strands of hair, “Did I ever tell you how pretty you are?”
Sidney huffed a small chuckle, able to catch her breath as she felt his hand around the back of her head.
“Shut up, you dork,” the girl cried, “We’re gonna be okay.”
With the last bit of strength he had, he managed to utilize his hand to pull Sidney closer until their lips sealed with each other’s. His hand never moved when Sidney gradually broke off the kiss.
Whether this was just a moment or something that would last, Sidney acknowledged the officer’s footsteps marching up the stairs. As she held him tighter, she felt Stu slumping down in her arms and passing out once more. Some part of her chuckled that he didn’t pass out from blood loss.
Sidney waved down the officers intruding the Macher home, eager to settle down this night once and for all. Never releasing the injured teenager in her arms, she kept her fingers on his neck, still recognizing a pulse. Rummaging her fingers through his hair, her palm settled itself on his cheek.
Out of sheer concern, Sidney pivoted her head back to one of the police officers.
"Can I stay in the ambulance with him?"