The Devils Bargain | stuilly | billyxstu | stuxbilly

Chapter 9

= Back to the present =

Stu laid in bed, gazing at the unchanging ceiling for hours. Billy hadn't shown up, and Stu's mind raced with thoughts. Did he scare him off? He remembered times after fights or even just weird moments between them, where Billy would ignore him, disappearing for months, only to reconcile unexpectedly. The longest he went was 4 months and it was the longest and most painful 4 months of his whole life. Still is and if that's not an indication of anything since his life since then hasn't exactly been rainbows and sunshine.

Stu was convinced that the friendship was over, that they had finally reached a point where they weren't friends anymore, and then they were paired in a class, and suddenly everything was back to normal.

He told himself then that he'd always wait for Billy. They were made for each other. Couldn't live with him, couldn't live without him. That's what they meant for him, he assumed it was the same for Billy since no matter how angry he got, he always came back.

When the day passed and moved on to the next, Stu decided he wasn't going to rot in his bed any longer. He still gasped when he moved, his wound not throbbing anymore but now just a constant ache that radiates up and down his body.

Stu got himself dressed very slowly. His pants were the hardest thing to get on since he had to slouch into his side to get his leg but it was a lot easier than it was two days ago. They were slightly baggy, so once his legs were in, it was easy to pull up. He strapped on his belt just below the gauze and put on a white vest and a yellow Hawaii-type shirt. It was eerily like the same outfit he wore the day before the big party.

But not the same, and even if it was the same, it wasn't like he'd associate the clothes he was wearing with anything, especially when he loved that damn shirt.

Now he was just missing his old clothes.

Stu shook his head, squinting as if to glare at himself. He limped his way out the door, holding his side as he moved.

The sun was already setting, an indication of his lost time. He has been stuck waiting for Billy for nearly two days, and the knowledge of that made him want to throw up. He was lonely; that much was clear. Stu was always a people person, he thrived in groups and broke when he was alone. All the other times Billy ditched him, Stu always had someone to fall onto to fill that impossible hole until he came back. This time, Stu was well and truly on his own.

He doesn't know which room Billy was in and he didn't even know if Billy had gotten himself a phone yet; he cursed himself for not asking.

So now he had to go to the front to ask. Which wouldn't be so bad if this was a nice motel, the kind he was used to before he died. He doubts this place has what you'd call 'favourable service'. Especially since they didn't bother to fill his cupboard with blankets, but he wouldn't complain about that since the result was a night spent sleeping with Billy.

Stu pushed the heavy door, wincing when he put too much weight on his bad side. The Clark was sitting, looking dead inside behind the counter, a cigarette in his mouth. He didn't seem to perk up or acknowledge Stu. Not a good start.

He had crazy messy hair that reached past his shoulders, a leather jacket, and a white vest shirt. He was of a bigger size, the opposite end of the body spectrum from him, and he could definitely see this man in a biker gang of some sort with all the tattoos that rode up his arms.

Stu limped to the counter, leaning into it and snapping his fingers. The Clark furrowed his eyebrows, not moving their heads, but their eyes slowly moved to meet his. "Wh'cha you want, kid?"

Stu tapped the counter. "Do you, um, know which room the guy I came here with is in?"

The guy frowned, giving Stu a once-over before leaning up and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it between his fingers. "You think I remember every stupid kid who comes into these rooms? "

"Give me a name or fuck off."

Stu glared, leaning up despite the jolt of pain that the sudden movement caused. They obviously weren't going to use their own names, and Stu wouldn't lie; he doesn't really remember the name they gave the man.

He was tired, and they were fighting. It was a long day!

Stu wracked his brain for a moment, thinking up all the usual suspects. It was definitely a horror figure name, but they watched a lot of movies, and they couldn't choose the well-known ones like Michael Myers.

"Is there a Charles Lee Ray on your system?" Stu asked slowly. He somewhat remembers Child's Play being the last movie they watched and he remembered Billy going on about how Chucky was cool.

The guy rolled his eyes, slipping the now-half-burnt cigarette between his lips and typing the name up on some run-down computer that was most definitely on its last legs.

"Sure is."

Stu perked up, waiting for the clerk to give up the room number. That was until the guy turned to Stu and just stared at him like he was waiting for something.

It didn't become apparent what he was asking for until he put his hand out, making a motion, and Stu scoffed, half tempted to push the guy's face through the wooden counter instead of giving this sleazebag any money.

But he doubted he could take on a small child in this state, and he didn't think Billy would appreciate finding out he beat the motel clerk in the front office. "I don't have any money."

"I mean, man, do you really think I would be staying in this shit-hole if I had money to throw around?"

The guy just shrugged, unaffected by Stu's outburst, moving away from the computer as if that made a point. "It's motel policy not to give out personal information, so unless you have some incentive, go find the fag yourself."

Stu clenched his fist, his eyes boring holes into the man. They might not die now, they may not die in 3 days. But he was going to die, and Stu was going to make sure he watched as his own guts fell out of his body. That was his promise. Just for that insult alone.

"Why don't you just tell me which room he's in?" Before I do the mortician's job for them.

The man stood to his full height, which wasn't much compared to Stu but his shoulders were wide, making him seem bigger than he actually was. The man dropped his half smoked cigarette into the ash tray beside him, his nostrils flaring and a vain in his neck straining. "I think you should leave, before you leave in a body bag boy."

Stu felt red-hot anger burned up his throat. Blood dripped down his palm in small drops, unnoticed by anyone who could be looking. The sting was nothing, though; he didn't even realise he had done it.

Stu didn't back down; in fact, his whole body was buzzing. He wanted this guy to try something because he needed an excuse to do something. Stu had gotten a taste of blood again, they always talk about how all it takes is a sniff of alcohol to fall off the wagon, well he got a whole mouth full and he was scratching to get a glass.

That and with Billy's ignoring him and being locked in a room for days, Stu was pent up with emotions. He wasn't usually the aggressive type, that was Billy's thing but Stu was willing to make an exception to that rule.

"Tell me which room my friend is in." Stu spat out, not having realised that he was now leaning across the counter, his whole body shaking like the emotions were fizzing inside him, and when the man's hands grabbed his shirt, it was like the cap had been opened.

Pain be damned, Stu suddenly had the man in a choke-hold on the floor. He wasn't thinking of the consequences or the fact that he could easily be caught. The ache that had been burdening him for so long seemed like a distant memory now, just elevating the explosion of feelings bursting out of him.

The adrenaline pumped through him, and the only thing on his mind was that he needed this man's blood all over the floor, he needed to push his fingers into his eye sockets and fill his mouth with his own blood. He needed to rid the world of the man who had insulted Billy.

The man wasn't content, however, to lie down and die; they never are. He kicked into Stu's side, causing Stu to cry out in pain, his arm wrapping around his side, his wound weeping, but Stu wasn't going down that easily.

The man scrambled up, trying to grab onto the phone to call the police, no doubt, like the police would ever get here in time.

Stu was surprised he didn't go after a gun. He seemed like the type to go straight for the fire arm. That was Stu's bad. Maybe he should make sure not to judge a book by its tough guy cover in the future and anyways, guns always made things more difficult.

The man was able to grab onto the phone and began dialing, but in that time, Stu had gotten up, glancing over the counter, where his eyes landed on the still-lit cigarette bud, smoking in the ash-tray and his smile cracked larger on his face.

Stu was quick to pounce to his feet, grabbing the lit cigarette and shoving it into the man's clenched hand. The guy yelled out, dropping the phone to grab his hand and flinching away. Stu took that chance and grabbed the phone that was still ringing for the police.

Stu pushed himself on top of the man; despite his 'size' difference, no amount of fat was going to protect his skull from the impact of the phone and no amount of muscle was going to make him stronger than Stu when he was jammed up on so many endorphins it would be classed an overdose.

Stu ripped the phone off the receiver, causing the wire to snap, and he smashed the phone into the man's face. Over and over and over again.

Stu's body twisted with each punch of the phone, putting all his strength into the force, blood splat across his face and Stu wondered for a moment who was laughing until he realised it was him.

The man's screams filled the room, his hands gripping and scratching at Stu, and yet nothing would stop him from bringing that phone down again, and he didn't stop when the guys yells became choking gargles.

The phone was covered in blood and, soon enough, covered in brain and skull pieces. Stu wanted to push his hands into his gaping face. His jaw was hanging off his face, his teeth crooked, but he was still breathing, the blood around his smashed-up nose bubbling every so often.

Stu loved the costume, he really did. But killing someone without it was almost better. His view wasn't obscured by the mask and everything just felt stronger. The wetness of the blood seeped into his skin better.

Stu finally stopped when his arm began burning. He leaned up, his pupils blown and breathing heavy. His arms fell to his side, his knuckles white from how hard he was clenching the phone. His head was fuzzy and dizzy, the walls felt like they were moving.

This was nearly better than sex. The only thing missing was Billy.

Stu looked to his side, finding a pocket knife, and ideas fell down his brain like candy. Stu was always an artist, and his work was certainly a sight to behold.

He made a promise to himself and to Billy that this man was going to see his own insides before he died. Stu liked to believe he was a man of his word.

The man gargled, his voice impossible to understand, but Stu wasn't interested in what he had to say anyway.

The human body was impeccable enough to survive this long, Stu had always appreciated the way the human body fought to survive. It helped make the games last longer but sometimes they kicked him in the ass. This was not one of those times.

The guy's skull was open, his brain seeping out, the air bubbling and popping through the space between his skull and his brain.

Stu finally dropped the phone, standing up and looking to the side to the counter, his gaze rolling over all the useless objects until he landed on his prize, grabbing the small pocket knife. It wasn't anything special. Just something simple; maybe the bastard would use it for intimidation.

Stu opened the blade, running his thumb over the dull side of the steel, blood smearing on the blade.

Stu could still hear the gurgling sound of the man beside him, he heard the way his clothes moved together, proof that he was trying to move, but maybe Stu smashed out the part of his brain that let him know how to do that.

Stu turned, a manic smile on his face, wiping his hand down and feeling the way the man's blood dripped and smeared down his face. There was truly nothing better.

He grabbed the man's shirt, pulling him to the wall so gravity could do most of the work for him. Stu kneeled down, wiping the man's destroyed face to try and get his eyes clear enough so he could look into the man's soul as he ripped him apart.

The man's eyes were mostly gone; his left eye almost seemed gone, pushed too far into his skull to work anymore, but Stu only needed him to have one working eye.

"You should have just told me what his room number was, but really, your mistake was insulting my friend." Stu ran the tip of the blade over the mans cheek, watching that one good eye follow the glint of the blade, fear apparent in his shaky pupils.

"But if you say sorry, I'll call the ambulance and let you go." Stu put on an innocent smile, a total juxtaposition to the expression he had before, knowing full well the man couldn't speak, and if the man still had half his brain, he'd know there was no way he could call the ambulance since Stu had destroyed the phone.

But the man still tried. His vocal cords ripped and rumbled to get something out, and yet, it was nothing but wet choking, but it was funny to watch his almost detached jaw shake as he tried to spit out anything audible.

Stu laughed, his body shaking and his fingers twitching. "Oops! It looks like you can't talk!" Stu stabbed the small pocket knife into his side. The man squirmed and gave a silent scream as small tears, or what he assumed were tears, rolled down his cheek, his own blood falling down with them.

Stu stared deep into that one eye, his blue eyes boring into the dying man as he slowly slid the blade like butter over and through the man's fat and muscle of his stomach, any difficulty masked by the pure pulsing adrenaline making it feel like the easiest thing ever even with a slightly dull pocket knife.

Finally, Several seconds, maybe minutes and a few cuts later, the man's guts fell out of his body, landing on Stu's knees, the blood and other bodily liquids splatting all over Stu's once yellow shirt.

The man died. Stu didn't know when, but he hoped he had lived long enough to see his own large intestine.

Stu sat there, not moving, as the steam rolled up and hit his face. Stu almost felt like he was inside this man's body, his blood a mix of red and yellow. The movies always got it wrong. Always too red or not colourful enough. The real thing was so much better.

Stu didn't move until everything came down. The blood now cold and sticky on his skin, and the man had been dead for at least 5 minutes. That's when Stu realised what he'd done.

So much for never killing without Billy. Guess he was a liar. He was always the impulsive one. Billy said it would get him killed. In this case, it just might.

Maybe he wanted Billy to know what he had done. Billy was a dick for leaving him when he needed him. This was certainly going to get him to listen to him again.

But it could also be the thing that pushes him off the edge, finally making the decision that Stu was too much. He had his mom back now, that was more a possibility than ever.

Either way, Stu had a choice to make. He could hide the body and go back to his room, pretend nothing happened, and move on. Stu highly doubted that he has family, nobody was going to come looking for this waste of oxygen.

Or

he could stage him. Like they did with Casey, like Maureen. It does mean he'd have to move motels, and that was a lot of work, and this was the closest motel to the college. Stu quickly realised which one he had to choose.

Stu sighed, beyond disappointed that this would have to be hidden away, but there's always some work an artist doesn't show.

The guy didn't deserve the attention anyway.

Stu pulled the man into a room in the back, throwing blankets and towels and other random crap on top of him. It wasn't like this stationary room was organised; nobody would look under all this, and this was temporary until Stu found a better place to put him.

Stu grabbed the man's coat, throwing it on to hide as much blood as possible. It was dark outside, so he doubted anyone would notice him anyway, but he wasn't stupid. Billy had taught him to be cautious.

Stu looked around the room, the room that 15 minutes ago was clean-ish, was now straight out of a horror movie, like that elevator scene in the shining. Blood splattered up the walls and pooled on the ground, an end trail strung across the floor after falling out the man's body when he dragged him.

Stu had never had to clean up his mess before– what did you use to clean up blood again? Stu rubbed his hands together, the blood squelching between his fingers. If it wasn't electrifying to see the mess he'd made, he might be freaking out over the fact he had no idea what to do here.

The high he got off a kill doesn't just disappear, it sat in his bones, deep in his muscles for days and if he got away with it? He would ride a cloud of pride and excitement for months.

Getting away with Maureen Prescott's murder was like a forever high and he rode that every time anyone mentioned it, which was all the time thanks to Sidney's pity party.

Stu walked slowly up to the office windows, pulling down the blinds that now covered the outside away from the mess, flipping the sign so he didn't have to worry about some stupid resident coming upon his own little horror show.

Now that Stu had actual privacy, he cracked a bigger smile, shaking his hands in an attempt to rid himself of the buzz in his limbs but he just found himself shaking harder, licking his lips and taking a long breath, the blood so potent in the room, almost felt a metallic sting on his tongue.

Getting back on track, Stu slid over to the computer, only needing to turn the screen back on to see Billy's room number. 259, was that on the second floor? Looking to the floor again, Stu grabbed the small pocket knife he had dropped when he went to pull the man into his hiding spot and wiped the steel blade between his thumb and finger, cleaning the blade of the now thick blood before pocketing it.

Stu decided to risk leaving the scene for a moment to go find where Billy was. He knows Billy knows how to fix this, he always did. Stu wasn't smart, he knew that, Billy was the guy who did the research and Stu just benefited from never needing to learn.

Maybe this situation would teach him, maybe he'll never learn. Stu was content with both as long as he had Billy.

Stu looked over and under the counter, finding the master key for all the rooms and also the key to the office, extra precaution from someone fucking up his set up.

He let himself enjoy the scene for a moment longer, wiping down his hands onto the jacket he was supposed to keep clean (but Stu was never good at keeping clean anyways) before he was out the door, locking it behind him and running up the stairs, eyeing the room numbers and keeping out of the windows line of sight if the room had lights on.

Soon enough he came upon 259. Stu peaked through the window. The lights were off, which meant either Billy was asleep, doubtful since Billy was always the night owl type, or the more likely option, he's out.

While Stu didn't like the idea that Billy was doing something without him, he knew it wasn't the time right now to pout. He quickly jammed the key into the lock, twisting it until the lock made a pop sound, Stu could hear someone opening their door down the way so he quickly pushed the door open, getting inside just before one of the tenants found him haha, red handed.

Stu sat by the door for a moment, taking a breath through his nose as the smell of Billy hit him. If there was any doubt that this was his room, it was gone now.

He flipped the light switch, the room now completely visible. Stu eyed over all the sprawled out papers, not giving them any mind since work was never his favourite past time and he wasn't all that interested in what Billy did in his spare time. He could see newspapers so he figured Billy was just trying to catch up.

Stu explored the small motel room for a while, not snooping, he'd never snoop on Billy. He was just curious.

He didn't find anything exciting like a diary ( though he doesn't imagine Billy would be so girly. But at the same time– ) but he did find a note with Billy's moms number on it, which was certainly a start.

He couldn't find anything with Billy's number but his moms worked. Moving to the motel phone, he dialed the number.

Nerves built in his stomach as the phone buzzed. What would Billy do when he found out what he did?

There was a level of excitement that built as well. Stu's want for Billy's attention wasn't always directed in the nicer parts of Billy. Sometimes he liked how Billy broke him down and made him feel worthless, though it never really did make him feel worthless because how could he be worthless if Billy still kept him around?

Billy could be deliciously sadistic, which worked well for Stu's more masochistic side. He didn't even know he had a masochistic side until Billy punched him for doing something stupid. At the time he was a baby about it, but after the fact?

Well it fed him for a while.

He remembered trying to see if Casey gave him the same feelings, in a way she did but it wasn't the same. She never means to hurt him, always apologising and it just ruined the mood and Tatum while a little better, did exactly the same in the end.

So Billy was the only one who really knew how to get him going and the man would not appreciate that if he knew. He'd probably slit his throat while calling him a fag and oh- guess Stu wasn't entirely opposed to that.

Stu was broken out of his deluded thoughts by the sound of a familiar older women. "Hello? How are you calling from this number?"

Stu cleared his throat, the nerves feeling suddenly significantly stronger than his excitement. ".. It's me Ma'am, Stu Macher?"

Nancy Loomis softened her tone, a motherly hum now covering her earlier venom. "Oh Stuart! What is wrong dear?"

Stu shifted, now noticing he had trekked blood into Billy's motel room from his shoes.. One problem at a time. "Is Billy with you?"

A hum rang through the receiver, an electronic buzz making a fuzzy layer over her voice. "He is. We are just enjoying a nice dinner.. You still haven't answered my question." Though her tone was still light, Stu could hear the frustration under all his sweetness, Billy used to do that a lot when he was talking to Sidney.

"Could you pass the phone over to him, I really need to talk to him... Ma'am." A sigh came down the receiver before Stu heard mumbling and the found of movement, indicating Nancy was passing over the phone.

"What do you want Stu?" Billy's voice rumbled down the phone and Stu shivered, his fingers sliding over the plastic of the back of the phone, the blood on his fingers making the phone more slippery in his grip.

"Sorry for ruining your dinner man–"

Billy cut him off, unlike his mother who was trying to hide her frustration, Billy didn't bother, letting it wash over his tone like a wave. "Just get to the point Stu, I'm busy."

Stu nodded despite the fact Billy couldn't see him, pacing in place for a moment, wracking his brain for a way to delicately explain that he killed someone. When he realised there really wasn't any way to let this out nicely, he just decided to let it happen slowly.

"I made– a teeny tiny mistake."

There was silence on the other end for a moment. "What did you do Stu?" Billy's tone was accusatory, a line of danger already sinking into his tone and it made a dangerous warmth pool in his stomach. "In my defense! The guy totally deserved it!"

More silence rang down the phone before he heard movement and a mumble of conversation he couldn't hear. Billy took a moment before he spoke again and Stu's nerves were turning into something far more dangerous. "Stu, who did you kill?"

Billy knew him too well, a smirk grew on his lips despite the fact Billy's very angry whisper should probably make him tone down. "You can't get angry at me man!"

"You left me all alone and y'know, you always said my impulsiveness would get me killed–"

"STU."

Billy's tone shot pulses down his fingers and up his arms, causing him to visibly shiver. "The guy at the front desk." He got out quickly, his head sinking slightly into his shoulders as he heard Billy's very angry, very heavy breathing down the phone.

Stu could practically hear the way Billy was silently pacing, clenching his fists and punching the air. "I'm going to kill you."

"I'm going to fucking kill you when I get back." Billy was pissed. Stu had expected it but it didn't make hearing it any less electrifying and slightly terrifying.

"Have you cleared up everything? Stu, we cannot get caught– Why did you have to kill someone inside the place we are staying??" Billy was jumping between different parts of his lecture that he wanted to give Stu, obviously not looking for an answer for any of the questions since he never gave Stu a chance to even a get a breath in.

Stu knew Billy would much rather say all this while punching, strangling and or maiming him but Stu was safe, at least right now. Maybe Billy would do all that later but for now, Stu would drink up the anger and attention like a whore.

"I did what I could, man. Locked the door, shut the blinds—no one's getting in that room. But damn, there's a lot of blood, Billy."

"I tried cleaning up—I got carried away when I found a knife. It's a real mess. I need your help, dude."

Silence rang down the phone for a moment but this time it was different. Somehow silence felt like it was wrapping around his neck and stealing all the air out of his lungs, and Stu worried for a moment that Billy was going to hang up and let him rot in his mistake.

But Billy wasn't so smart.

"Okay, okay, I'll get down there. Make sure nobody gets into that room, Stu."

Stu nodded quickly. If he had a tail, he was sure it'd be wagging because Billy was coming back! Maybe he should have killed someone every time Billy ignored him. It seemed to provide results far quicker than letting him deal with his emotions himself.

"Alright, man, I'll keep it clear for you."

Stu wasn't blessed with a response, just the beep of being hung up on, but Stu didn't care, nothing got his heart pumping faster than this. Working with Billy in their favourite game, murder.

Billy and Stu are back in town, baby!