Tear You Apart || Billy Loomis & Stu Macher ✓

𝟷𝟽| 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡

For the past two days, you have felt numb, unable to cry since witnessing the gruesome deaths of your brother and dear friend.

But the killer attacking you like this, somehow finding a way inside your house, an overwhelming sense of impending doom washed over you.

Your body shook relentlessly, the strong arms around you unable to relieve the extreme fear you felt. Images of Casey's body strung from the tree outside her house flashed behind your eyelids. Then Steve with his guts spilling into his lap, and the agonizing pain in his eyes.

"Y/n," Billy spoke gently, trying to placate you.

"They're dead," you cried, salty liquid finally slipping beneath your eyes. "He killed them—and maybe I'm next—I don't know anymore."

"You're not." Billy drew away to look at your face but you shook your head frantically.

A painful lump was lodged in your throat as you tried to speak. "I—I don't want to die—Billy, I can't—not like that."

Your lungs couldn't keep up with your rapid breathing. It felt like you couldn't get enough air as you panted, panicked tears streaming nonstop.

"Hey, look at me," Billy gripped your face between both hands. "You're not going to die. I won't let that happen."

He grew frustrated as you weren't listening, too busy hyperventilating to register a single word.

"Y/n, it's okay—" He grimaced at the realization. You were having a panic attack.

Then he did the unexpected.

Billy captured your lips with his own, subduing your rampant breathing. The air had been stripped from your lungs, yet your heart was running wild.

Your stomach fluttered as he snuck an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. You don't know what came over you as you kissed him back. Even without oxygen, you felt as if you could breathe again.

You felt his thumb wipe the tears from your cheek before moving his hand toward the back of your head. And when his tongue brushed your bottom lip, you had slowly regained control of your mind.

Pressing a hand against his chest, you nudged him back. From the heated look he wore, you knew he'd almost gotten carried away.

"Why did you do that?" You asked breathlessly, gaping at him through glossed-over eyes.

"It was the first thing that came to mind," he admitted slowly. He gently brushed your hair back and out of your face. "And look, you're not crying anymore."

"But Sidney—"

"She's not my top priority right now." He cut you off, an unfathomable look in his eyes.

"No..." You muttered as the blaring sirens outside pierced your ears. "I mean, she's here."

After calling for help, Tatum and Sidney would, of course, be riding along with Dewey in his patrol car. It would be a shit-show if any of them saw Billy here.

The police would have to tell your parents about him showing up during the attack which would only cause a rift between your families—your father would probably nail your window shut—and Sidney, she'd want to know why Billy was alone with you.

"You have to go." You voiced, guiding him backward toward the window. "The police are coming."

"Are you sure you're all right?" He asked, withstanding your futile shoves. "I'll leave once you tell me you're okay."

"Yes," You assured, frantically urging him away. "You kissed me better, now go before you get detained again."

"Alright, I'm going." He said, swiftly crawling onto your rooftop. Then he turned to looked at you. "I could kiss you again just to be safe."