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Billy has always been Billy. Cold and calculating from a young age. He’d make Stu run around fetching him things at recess when they were younger, just for him to toss them back into the grassy field while he perched on the climbing frame, laughing. Stu always retrieved them dutifully, kind of like a dog.
Stu hadn’t batted an eye when Billy decided his name was Billy at the ripe age of six, instead he went around intimidating everyone else into calling him that, even the teachers. Stu was always the tallest kid in class, even back then, so it wasn’t long before everyone knew Billy as Billy. Nobody remembers who he was before he was him. Thanks to Stu.
By the time they got to high school, everyone knew Billy Loomis as Billy Loomis, and nobody needed to know anything else. Billy never let them. Not even Sidney(having a sex averse ‘girlfriend’ is the perfect cover up). Stu still knew everything of course.
But sometimes Billy loses who he is inside himself, and rare as those moments are, when he’s lost like that, it’s dark. Darker than his usual frigidness, the kind of darkness that feels like it might swallow him whole.
Tonight is one of those nights, where the seeds of insecurity bloom into an inky blackness in Billy’s chest. Nothing even happened. Nothing sparked it this time. Nothing other than looking in the mirror.
Billy’s eyes found the binder strap peaking out from his oversized Halloween t-shirt first. Repulsive. He frowns, eyes darting to his shoulders next. Too narrow. His waist and hips get treated to the same scathing expression as he muses in the mirror, disgusted by the way his shorts sit on his body. Hideous. Next his eyes flick to his face, studying his hair, it’s too long, tracing his far too soft jawline. He feels awful, but he can’t tear his eyes away from every little imperfection, even when his stomach starts to churn.
He’s so wrapped up in his self loathing that he doesn’t hear it when Stu walks in his front door unannounced. Stu has let himself in like that for as long as they both can remember, as long as Billy’s dad’s car isn’t in the driveway. Usually when it is, they end up staying at Stu’s house anyway. Stu lingers in the doorway of Billy’s room when he sees his best friend staring so intently into the cracked mirror. Billy had broken it last time something like this happened, yet they’re back here again, only the mirror is already cracked this time.
“Bill..?” Stu doesn’t dare move from his spot in the doorframe, but he can’t stand there and let Billy pick himself apart any longer.
“Get out.” Billy’s whole body goes tense, but he doesn’t tear his glassy eyes away from the mirror.
“Hey, I just-“
“I said get the fuck out Stu.” Billy snarls, eyes still trained on his own reflection, deadly serious. His stomach churns dangerously and he screws his face up, he’s disgusting. “I don’t need an audience.”
“Billy, man what’s wrong? You look like you’re gonna be sick.” Stu is across the room in three steps, sneakers quiet against the floor. He stops, standing just a few feet behind Billy.
“Leave me the fuck alone Stu.” Billy’s eyes find Stu in the mirror behind him. His eyes trace over his lanky limbs he’s somehow still growing into, his blue eyes and the hair he definitely cut himself with kitchen scissors. Stu is perfect. The tears that have been welling in his mocha eyes threaten to spill over, but Billy refuses to cry. Especially not in front of Stu. Before Stu can’t react Billy’s got his hand in his mouth, biting down on the meat of his palm.
“Billy!” Stu’s done with the giving Billy space act as quick as it started and he’s almost immediately got his chest pressed to Billy’s back, wrestling the hand out from between his teeth. “Stop it man. Stop.” Stu’s insistent, and as painful as it is for Billy to admit, stronger than Billy, so he gets his hand out from between his teeth with relative ease.
Standing there with his hands pinned to his sides, Stu looming over him in the mirror, Billy starts to cry. Watching the tears carve their way down his cheeks in the mirror is too much, as his stomach twists uncomfortably. He screws his eyes shut, letting Stu hold him. He is disgusting.
He should have expected Stu. Stu checks on him pretty much everyday if he doesn’t follow him home from school anyway. Billy doesn’t know it, but checking on Billy isn’t just Stu being worried, it’s him fending off his own loneliness too. Stu hates being alone in his big, empty house.
“I can cut em off for ya. Would that make you feel better?” Stu’s hand lets go of Billy’s wrist, bringing his hand up to Billy’s chest and miming a cutting motion/sound both with his hands and his mouth. Stu’s goofy smile falls flat the moment Billy’s shoulders stiffen instead of soften.
“Don’t-“ Billy mutters, using his free hand to wipe at his eyes. He nearly gags when he looks at his reflection again, small and scared against Stu’s chest. He hates looking small, and especially hates looking scared. He wishes he wasn’t barefoot suddenly, wanting his boots to give him the illusion of height. “Don’t make it a joke Stu.”
“I wasn’t-..shit I’m- I’m sorry Bills, I didn’t mean-“ Stu’s heart stumbles in his chest and his face falls. He didn’t want to make it worse.
“Yeah, you did,” Billy snaps, drilling the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. The words come out sharp, like they always do, but underneath, they tremble in a way that makes them both feel a little sick. “You always mean it.” His reflection splinters across the cracked glass—three versions of him, all ugly, all wrong. “You think it’s funny ‘cause you don’t have to live with it. ‘S not a joke.”
“Live with what?” Stu’s not joking now, genuinely confused by Billy’s words. Stu would love to live like Billy, Billy is the most perfect guy he’s ever seen. It was Billy’s genius plan to kill Maureen, Billy’s smooth talking that always gets them into the movies for free, Billy’s smile that makes his big house feel less alone. Stu isn’t that smart, or charming, or handsome. Stu would kill to be like Billy. Billy would kill to be anyone else.
“All of it Stu!” Billy finally tears his eyes away from the mirror, whirling to look at Stu, gesturing to each thing he can’t stand to look at. “This body-! This fucking face-!” Billy’s arms snap to his sides as he bores holes into Stu, his eyes deadly serious. “I hate it, Stu.” Stu takes a cautious step forward before inching backwards again, unsure what to do with Billy. One wrong move and Billy is going to lose it on him, and he didn’t come here with the intention of getting his ass kicked, not tonight.
“So tell me what you think I should do.” Stu huffs eventually, fighting away the anger that’s bubbling up inside him. He shouldn’t be mad at Billy, it’s not his fault. But lately every feeling Stu has comes out in a bloody, angry mass. “Cause I can’t stand here and watch you rip yourself apart man.”
“You can’t fix this Stu.” Billy laughs, a broken cackle of a sound. It sounds like it hurts.
“I’m not trying to fix you man.” Stu feels his throat tighten. He wants to reach out and grab Billy, but he knows better. “I just wanna make it stop hurting. For a little bit.” Billy shakes his head, but the fight is bleeding out of him like he’s been stabbed. It’s something he never lets anyone see, but here’s Stu, waiting like he’s ready to mop up the blood if Billy asks him to. Stu steps closer, just enough.
“Don’t look at me. This is pathetic.” Billy whispers, staring at his feet. They’re too small.
“I’m not.” It’s a blatant lie, he’s staring straight at Billy, studying the way the tears track down cheeks, the way he’s trying to keep it all together.
Billy finally does break, it’s not some big dramatic show, he just simply leans into Stu’s chest and sobs. It’s like something in him gave up all of a sudden. The tension slowly leaves his frame as Stu’s arms come up to hold him, steady and warm. Still standing in front of the mirror but not alone anymore. Thank god Stu was here. Stu doesn’t comment when Billy’s weight slumps against him in full, Stu’s basically holding him upright now. He just holds him and rubs his back, his own breath settling as Billy’s ragged breathing starts to even out.
“C’mon buddy, let’s sit down. My arms are going numb here.” Billy doesn’t protest as Stu guides him to his bed. The sheets are all fucked up, tangled with his blankets in a mess at the end of the bed like he had been flailing in his sleep. He probably actually had been to be fair. Billy sits on the edge, eyes fixed on his hands like he’s never seen them before. Stu settles beside him, his weight making the bed dip as he knocks their knees together. “You okay?”
“Do I look okay to you, genius?” Billy snorts, but it’s lacking any humor.
“No. But you’re here so that’s somethin!” Stu huffs, bashing their shoulders together softly. “Better than last time.” Billy gives him a sideways look, finally a flicker of something other than this numbness he’s poorly masked with crude anger.
“You shouldn’t have to deal with me when I’m like this.” Billy breathes long and low, craning his neck to stare at the posters on his ceiling so he can pretend like he doesn’t feel Stu staring.
“Yeah well,” Stu leans back on his elbows, shrugging. “Guess I’m bad at listening when people tell me to get out.”
“You’re bad at listening in general.” Billy snorts, shaking his head.
“Maybe.” Stu lets his arms give out so he’s lying flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s good I didn’t listen right? You want me here?” His voice is quieter now, all that brash, loud confidence nowhere to be found.
“Yeah. Thank you.” Billy lays back beside Stu, careful not to bump him. It’s a weird sight, both of them laid back across Billy’s bed, in perfect silence while they stare at the ceiling. Billy’s eyes are red from crying, and the only noise in the room is a quiet sniffle from time to time.
“D’you wanna talk about it or something?” Stu offers suddenly, head lolling so he’s looking at the boy beside him.
“No.”
“M’kay. You know you’re the coolest guy I know right? Manlier than me.” Stu smiles, wide and jeering.
“Shut up Macher.” Billy groans but it’s lacking his usual bite.
“I mean it!” Billy lets his head flop to the side, staring right at Stu for a long while. His face is streaky and his eyes are red, his mouth trembling from the aftershocks of crying—but there’s something in his gaze that’s awfully fragile and real, like he’s looking at something haunting. Stu is kind of haunting in a pretty sort of way.
“I don’t know how to stop hating it. All of it, my body, the way people see me, the way I see me.”
“So don’t. Just hate it for tonight.” Stu’s voice is quiet, so quiet it’s a little scary. He reaches out, tentatively brushing his thumb across the back of Billy’s hand. “Just breathe. I’ll hate it with you for tonight.”
“You’re an idiot.” Billy chuckles, his whole body loosening as he shuffles over to lean into Stu.
“Yeah but I’m your idiot.” Stu smiles crookedly, and Billy can’t help but echo it on his own face. “C’mere.” Stu kicks his shoes off, shuffling them around so that he’s laid back against the pillows, Billy laid out beside him, with his head on his chest. Stu’s arms are wrapped loosely around the boy in his arms, and Billy’s content to lay there and listen to the sounds of Stu’s breath and the steady thumping of his heart under his cheek. Stu can feel the rise and fall of Billy’s chest against his own ribs, and it’s comforting in a way.
“Do you ever feel like..you’re just pretending?” Billy asks suddenly, half muffled by Stu’s body.
“Pretending how?” Stu hums softly, rubbing Billy’s back softly, his eyes starting to get heavy.
“Like…” Billy trails off, thinking for a second. “Like people see what you want them to see, and they think they know everything. Think they know you. But they don’t and you can’t tell them because it’ll make everything…worse somehow.” Billy looks up at Stu just for a moment, dark eyes shrouded by long lashes meeting blue ones.
“Hm yeah. I think I get that.” Stu says after a moment of quiet.
“Do you?” Billy cranes his neck to give Stu a skeptical look, eyes narrow.
“Yeah.” Stu’s voice stays soft and steady. “I pretend all the time. Pretend I’m not lonely. Pretend I’m not scared. Pretend I’m not jealous of how easy you make it look, being... you.” He cringes at the last part when he feels Billy still against him. Too much?
“Easy?” Billy’s in such disbelief he laughs, blinking at Stu. “You think this is easy?”
“Not this. Even when you’re picking yourself to shreds you’re smart, charming and brave y’know? Like a real person.” Stu laughs, suddenly self conscious. “You feel real, y’know?” Stu shrugs, the moment shifting a disgruntled Billy ever so slightly, making him grumble. Billy’s throat closes around something that isn’t quite a sob once what Stu had said sets in, and he buries his face into Stu’s chest to muffle the sound.
“You’re a fucking weirdo Stu Macher.” He says it into Stu’s chest, and the words are barely clear enough to understand, but Stu chuckles anyway.
“Probably. But you like it that way.”
For a minute neither of them say a word. Nothing left to say, or maybe too many things that neither of them care to spill out right now. After a while Billy’s voice cuts through the silence, his sniffling finally at bay. “You make me sound like I’m not broken.”
“You’re not.” Stu says matter of factly. “You’re a little jacked up but so am I. We’re fine.”
“You make it sound easy.”
“Nah.” Stu nestles his head into the pillows, voice getting rough with sleep. Billy’s hair is tickling his chin but he doesn’t mind. “Y’know I’d be lost without you Bills.”
“Don’t get all sappy on me now, you fucker.” Billy laughs but nuzzles in closer, breathing in Stu.
“Don’t go anywhere.” Stu squeezes him tight, even with his arms tired from sleep and the rope climbs in gym class earlier.
“I wasn’t planning on it.” Billy sighs, letting his eyes flick closed. He pretends like he can’t feel Stu lean down and press a kiss to the top of his head, but Stu feels him smile against his chest anyway. The dull buzz of the night lulls them both into an easy sleep, wrapped up in each other like pieces of some messed up puzzle.
The morning creeps in slowly, like even the sun is hesitant to disturb the quiet that has befallen Billy Loomis’s room. It’s lacking its usual chaos, no horror movie drones on in the background, the blankets don’t look like Billy’s been fighting monsters in his sleep all night, and Billy blinks awake slowly, not jarred awake by his own mind. The sun hits the cracked mirror, sending warm shafts of bending light across the bed.
Billy blinks awake slowly, and for a second he doesn’t realize where he is. He doesn't even recognize his room for a moment, it looks so strange bathed in the morning light, lacking all its usual mayhem. Then he feels the weight of an arm draped around his waist, and feels the familiar rise and fall of a body beneath his cheek.
Oh right. Stu.
He blinks at the realization, at how close they are. Something in him knows he should move, but something else in him refuses. He’s warm, and so so comfortable pressed against Stu like this. Stu’s got his face buried in Billy’s hair, his breath tickling his scalp. Billy snorts a laugh, but he doesn’t move.
“Mornin” Stu grumbles, his voice gravely with sleep, but he doesn’t lift his head, speaking into the mop of brunette hair in his face.
“You’re drooling on me.” Billy hums, not mad, just observing.
“Shut up.” Stu mutters, and Billy can hear the smile in his voice. “You love it.” Billy doesn’t answer him with some playful bite, not even with something angry. He doesn’t answer at all. He’s staring at their reflection in the cracked mirror, their sunbathed shapes intertwined on his bed. It’s the first time the reflection he finds in that cracked mirror doesn’t make his stomach twist. “Hey, you okay?” Stu props himself up on his elbow, making Billy’s head slide down so it is resting on Stu’s belly. His hair is sticking up in a million different directions, and his cheek is red, a pillow seam running down it. It would be a funny sight under different circumstances, but right now neither of them laugh.
“Better.” Billy sits up now, looking across at Stu. “Thanks for…like not leaving or whatever.” Billy’s hair is a mess too, but the bags he usually sports under his eyes have faded. He looks well rested for the first time in a while. Maybe for the first time since his mom left.
“I told you I wouldn’t. I’m good to my word.” Stu puffs his chest out, grinning stupidly. There's a long pause, nothing between them but quiet and the occasional dust particle flying through the sunlight. The sunlight creeps higher, catching the edge of Billy’s jaw, softening everything that is always so harsh about him. Stu looks at him for too long, eyes flitting over the boy in front of him, full of quiet awe.
“You’re staring.” Billy notices because he always does. He raises his eyebrows and gives Stu a look, but it's still lacking his typical bite.
“Yeah. Can I?” Stu doesn’t stop staring to ask, smiling at himself. Billy just shakes his head, smiling back.
“You’re already doing it?” Billy chuckles, albeit a little confused. Stu leans a little closer, wordless and Billy suddenly goes red. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Stu breathes, moving a little closer. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”
“I don’t.” Billy doesn’t move, but Stu connecting their lips still startles him. It’s sloppy and tired, with too much teeth and a little too rough. It’s perfect.
They only pull away when they need to breathe again, panting into each other's faces, mere centimeters away. Stu pulls back before coming back to press a quick kiss to Billy’s nose.
“C’mon. We gotta go to school. I can’t miss any more classes or I won’t graduate.” Stu grumbles, pulling his lanky limbs out of bed.
“You’re going to wear the same outfit as yesterday?” Billy gets out of bed, eyeing Stu curiously. “Here. I’ll give you a shirt.”
“Ooo wearing your clothes in public already? We sure are moving fast!” Stu grins, bounding across the room with far too much energy for it being so early. “Can I wear the Exorcist shirt?”
“Shut up you fucking idiot.” Billy laughs but hands him the Exorcist shirt anyway.
“Thank you Billssssss.” Stu kisses him on the side of the head before bolting to the bathroom. “I’m gonna use all the hot water!”
“Fuck you its my house!” Billy races after him, their footsteps thundering down the small hallways. It’s loud, insane and in a way that can only be theirs, domestic.