billy x stu oneshots

Walk The line

Credit to Valentia

You've got a way to keep me on your side,
You give me cause for love that I can't hide,
For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide.
Because you're mine, I walk the line.

The girls must die. Billy doesn’t remember when the thought had first come to him, but it has been clouding his mind ever since, like a burning fever he just can’t shake. Every time they all sit together and he can’t help but watch Stu put his arms around Tatum, or play with her hair, or kiss her; every time he walks past Casey in the hallway, knowing she’d felt Stu’s hands on her waist, her breasts, her neck; Billy feels this urge rising from deep within him, twisting his insides, making him gnaw his teeth and ball his hands into fists. They have to die.

After killing Sidney’s whore mother, Billy had felt euphoric for a while. Seeing the light vanish from Maureen’s eyes made Billy feel more satisfaction than anything else ever did. Blood was pooling on her stomach, soaking into her shirt and Billy’s jeans where he was kneeling above her body, pants around his ankles. Billy was content. The satisfaction he felt compared to nothing else he’d ever experienced, and in this moment he was sure doing things to women was what made him happy.

Stu had been watching him, belt hanging from his hip and a hand down his pants. His eyes were fixed on Billy, his hand that was clutching his shirt bloody and slippery from when he’d held Maureen Prescott so Billy could stab her again and again. He was covered in blood, black in the faint moonlight, and Billy watched him as he shook and gasped and fell to the ground, exhausted but smiling. Billy had wanted to grab his hand and squeeze it.

It wasn’t much later that Billy had first brought up the idea to Stu of not stopping there. The satisfaction Billy had felt that night slowly melted away, leaving the same anger and restlessness in him that he’d felt before. Sidney didn’t help with that either, as she became more distant after her mother’s murder, more often than not refusing to let Billy touch her. Whenever they had fooled around, Billy liked to be on top, kneeling above her, a hand somewhere near her neck, and the image of Maureen dead and sliced open flashed before his eyes and all he could think about was what all the other girls would look like when they were killed by his hand, including Sidney. And a voice in his mind told him they would deserve it; they liked to play with men’s feelings and yet they had never done anything to make Billy feel good. Even his own mother had left him.

It’s a hot weekend at the end of July when Stu’s parents are out of town, giving him and Billy the opportunity to discuss their plans for Maureen’s one year death anniversary. What a celebration that would be. The sun is still out when Billy knocks at the front door, and Stu opens it with a big grin. He’s always grinning when he sees Billy, and sometimes Billy wants to cut the smile off his face, but he can never quite get himself to do it. Stu pulls him into a tight hug, one that squishes Billy against his warm chest, making him acutely aware of how unnervingly tall Stu is compared to him. He feels his big hands on his back, pressing his grey shirt against his sweaty skin. Stu smells of lavender and beer, and Billy feels dizzy.

Stu leads him to the living room, throwing him a bottle of beer from the fridge. The cold glass feels good against Billy’s fingers. Lately, he’s been feeling even more restless than usual, and it shows especially in his hands which can never stay still; he’s always pulling at the hem of his shirt or boring his nails into his palms until they hurt and leave marks. It happens mostly when he’s around Stu. The TV is quiet in the background, some boring news channel talking about some business guy’s tax fraud. Billy only cares about the murders. There haven’t been many lately, which he considers a shame.