Scream For Me // Billy x Eddie x Steve x Reader

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

The following morning, you're sat at the breakfast counter with a cup of coffee and some toast when your dad slumps into the room, the dark circles around his eyes and the exhaustion clear in his muscles making you gnaw your lip in worry. "Morning... You look wrecked, dad. You okay?"

"Hmm." He hums, moving to the coffee pot to get a cup himself. Normally, he'd embellish it with sugar and creamer, but he just draws a long gulp of it black, as if it's the very life force with which he's relying on. You've only ever seen him like this once, but it's been weeks since you moved to town now and he's not any closer to catching this killer that you're aware of. He's so tired that all the fight is gone from him as he leans across from you, a defeated tone to his expression as he meets your gaze. "I got nothin' on him, sweetheart." He says, lack of sleep giving a slight slur to his words. Not noticeable to anyone but you, who knew just how to tell when he was past the point of exhaustion.

"You should sleep, dad. Properly." Your voice is stern to even your own ears and it's not lost on you that you're acting the parent in this scenario. 

"I will. When I get him." He assures you, a sharpness and tenacity to his gaze as his muscles coil. He's getting angry with not being able to stop these senseless murders.

"Anything I can do to help? Want an outside opinion?" It wasn't something he did often because he very much wasn't allowed to. It could make him lose his job, but, after chewing his cheek in debate for a moment, he relents and draws up a stool to sit across from you. There were very few occasions in your entire life that you could recall him taking you up on the offer and each time made you feel pride in being able to help him, even if it didn't help at all.

"The most recent murder was Neil Hargrove - last night." He says and you have to clench your teeth to keep the shock from your face, raising your cup to your lips to cover half of you as you get yourself together. Hargrove? As in Billy Hargrove? Was that his dad? Was that why he looked so fucking wrecked last night? As your dad talks, the questions roll over in your mind and you make a mental note to offer Billy your condolences at school tomorrow. God, you felt like such an ass for letting desire win out last night when he obviously needed something more emotional to get through his loss.

"I think his son is in a few of my classes." You say flippantly, shrugging a little like the boy himself wasn't buried in your guts last night while your dad was out working. Yikes.

"He has a step-daughter too, a few years younger." Billy has a sister? "Anyway, this one was a deviation from the normal style in which this killer works. All of the victims have been highschool students - usually either popular, or well liked. Egbert Johnson was set to become captain of the basketball team next year, Brenda Harris was, as far as we know, a sweet girl who made an effort to be kind to everyone she met. Neil Hargrove?" Your dad scoffs a little and takes another long gulp of his drink. "Lets just say his neighbors had some pretty... interesting things to say about him. He wasn't exactly popular wherever he was, and definitely wasn't kind if what they say is true."

Your brows knit together as you set your cup down, leaning a little closer. "So do you think the killer is changing it up a bit? Turning his anger on those who are cruel instead of those who are kind?"

"Maybe." He sighs, running a hand over his face. 

"Maybe it was personal." You muse, half under your breath, as you toy with the nail polish peeling away on your fingertips. Your dad perks up a little bit, head quirking to one side. 

"What makes you say that?" He gives you the kind of look that says he already agrees with your suggestion, putting the pieces together for himself, but wants to hear from your perspective too. Wants to see just how clever you are, how much his daughter you are.