the spectacle | billy loomis x reader x stu macher

03: Party Lights



03: Party Lights



RANDY'S GETS BACK FROM CLASS AROUND SEVEN-FIFTEEN. He finds you seated on he edge of your bed while your eyes drills holes in the floor. It didn't take a genius to know something was wrong. He takes cautious steps toward you as though you're a scared animal. "What happened?" He takes a seat next to you, his voiced laced with concern.

      Don't make the same mistake. Just tell him.

      You pick up your head to look at him. You open your mouth, ready, but pause. He wears the same eyes — the same worried, watchful eyes. The same ones he held the first time you tried to kill yourself. Your stomach churns, throat tightening.

      You take a breath — in and out. You bite your cheek, knowing you can't run from this — not this time. Not like you tried to before.

      "He called me." You look away, burying your head in your hands. "Fuck, Randy, he called me."

      Randy tenses beside you. "What'd he say?"

      "He'll see me tonight," You respond with a bitter laugh.

      "Fuck." With a sharp intake of breath, Randy groans. "This is bad."

      You laugh again, looking at him again. "You think?"

      Randy's eyes narrow as he considers the options, his mind racing. "Okay, okay..." He stands, pacing the room. "If we stay here, we're sitting ducks. Practically begging the killer to come in and butcher us. But-" He raises a finger- "If we go to the party, we'll be surrounded by people. It'll be harder for the killer to single us out and make a move. We can blend in, become a part of the crowd, and increase our chances of staying alive."

      "We've seen the movies, Randy." Your shoulder slump. Standing from the bed, you fix your t-shirt, trying to mask your nerves, but he sees right through you. "Did a crowd stop Jason? Freddy?"

      Randy pauses mid-pace, his gaze fixed on you. The corners of his lips curl into a small smirk, a glint of mischief shining in his eyes. "You make a fair point," He replies, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "But think about it. In those movies, the survivors always had something going for them. They were resourceful, smart, and they fought back."

      "No, they were virgins who didn't drink or smoke." You roll your eyes. "Which, if you've forgotten, all I do is smoke and drink, and I haven't been a virgin in years!"

      "You're final girl material, [Nickname]. He won't spoil that." His response leaves you leaves you cold, goosebumps rising across your skin. "And, this is the sequel. New story, new rules." You perk a brow and he rolls his eyes as though you should know this already. "Meaning the body count is going to be bigger, the death scenes are more elaborate — more blood, more gore — and never, ever, under any circumstances assume the killer is dead."

      You swallow hard, feeling a nervous lump form in your throat.  Unsure, you take a breath and look at him. "We're so fucked, Ran."

THE party is packed to the brim of horny, shit-for-brains college students. You navigate through the crowded party, the pulsating music and laughter seem to fade into the background, drowned out by the weight of the impending danger. Randy's presence beside you provides you with some comfort, but deep down, your anxiety is still ever-present.

      "[Name], you made it!" Lois exclaims wide smile as you step out onto the back patio. She looks between you and Randy. "Do you two want a drink?"