Chapter Text
With the phone call ended, Stu quickly scrambled to clean up the footprints he had left in Billy's room and outside. Thanks to the darkness of the night, the blood was almost impossible to see on the metal floor, just looking like mud or like someone had stepped through a puddle of some blackish liquid.
Stu still did his best to clean it up, using a mop he found in the stationary closet, and while cleaning up small footprints was easier than the mess in the office room, Stu still finished sweating and tired.
One thing these types of motels gave was the unspoken rule of, ‘ It's not your problem .’ If anyone saw him mopping the floor outside, they’d either assume he was high or that he was just a weirdo. It worked for him either way.
Now that all the adrenaline was gone, his side was beginning to ache again, but Stu didn’t pay it as much attention as he did before. Billy wouldn’t appreciate his bitching anyway.
Billy was far from happy when he pulled up at the motel and his mother dropped him off, which just reminded him that he needed to figure out his own transportation.
Billy never got his driver's license, he knows Stu has it but without a car, it's a pretty useless thing to have. It doesn’t help that the driver's license would have a dead killer's name on it.
He had of course explained to his mom why their dinner had to be cut short, and while Billy was mainly using the opportunity to get away from Stu for a while, he was enjoying his time with his mother, needing the time to catch up with the mom he hadn’t seen since he was a kid.
His mom wanted to help, saying more hands were better, but Billy needed to deal with this on his own, not worrying about his mom getting on his back when he beat Stu into the floor.
As much as he loved his mom, she forced him to bring back a side of himself that he was unfortunately familiar with. A mask of 'I'm not as deranged as you think.’ Stu would get away with a lot with his mom around.
Billy trekked up to the office, seeing that Stu wasn’t lying about the blinds being closed. He pushed at the door, which suddenly had weight on it that wasn’t there before. Billy could see the large but thin outline of Stu, and he figured Stu was blocking the door, so he couldn’t get in.
"It's me, dumbass." Billy yelled, punching the window to fully get Stu’s attention. Suddenly, the door became light again, and Billy pushed in. Instantaneously, it became apparent what Stu had done.
This was somehow worse than all the mess he’d made before, and those times he didn’t even have to clean it up.
If Billy wasn’t pissed, he’d spend a second appreciating the complete chaos that Stu had caused within the room.
Billy walked over to the counter and past it, making sure not to stand in the pools of blood on the floor that had now been set in place. He noted that there was no body, but a blood smear leading to a door at the back gave him a clear idea of where he was.
Billy rubbed the bridge of his nose, now turning to look at Stu, whose pupils were still blown out, and though there was shame behind his expression, Billy could see the smug ass grin he had. He is obviously proud of his work.
Billy didn’t dare give him the satisfaction of agreeing. Billy pointed over at him, keeping his expression understandably pissed. "I'm still going to kill you. But first, you are going to clean this up.”
“I'm not helping you. I missed dinner because you couldn’t stop yourself. Show some damn restraint, man.”
Stu's grin didn’t falter, just growing larger and nodding along like he was having fun, and Billy clenched his fist, only getting angrier that Stu was not taking his anger seriously.
Billy turned, grinding his own teeth as he fought himself to figure out if he was going to let this slide or if he was going to jump the gun on his punishment. All it took was Stu’s stupid mouth to make the decision stupidly easy to make.
“Like I said, man, the guy deserved it.”
Suddenly Billy had Stu pushed up on the wall, that smug grin faltering for a moment before he put it back on. Billy just stared at him in response, his voice holding an edge. "Don’t try to twist this to not seem as much of a f*ck up as it is."
Billy grabbed the top of Stu’s head, pushing the back of his head into the plaster wall. Billy saw the way he swallowed, his neck completely exposed for Billy to whatever he wanted, and Billy just wanted to slit his throat and watch him bleed.
Or bite into him, especially since his skin tone mixed so well with the darkness of the blood. “Give me the knife.”
Stu's head didn’t move, but his eyes widened as he looked down at him, his Adam's apple bobbing again. “Why..?"
Billy pushed his head harder into the wall. Stu made a sound in reply. Despite the fact Billy wasn’t holding his arms, they made no attempt to grab at Billy, which just sent electrifying jolts up his fingertips.
"Do not test me, Stu. ”
Stu tried to nod, his head just bobbing slightly because Billy's hold didn’t falter. One arm pushed into his pocket, bringing out the small pocket knife Stu had apparently used. Billy knew he would keep it. Stu could never help himself.
Billy let his hand fall from Stu’s head, but it didn’t seem like Stu was going to move, which worked well for him.
Billy flipped the blade, appreciating the blade that had taken a life not half an hour ago, and like a flash, the blade was put against Stu’s neck. His whole body went rigid, and his breathing slowed.
Billy was still angry, but there was a dangerous line he was standing on right now.
A line between his anger and his sadism. Sadism for Stu always became far more than just the want to hurt or the want to watch someone squirm because it was fun. For Stu, it was hotter and more perverted, and it was far too easy to fall there.
The only time he had felt anywhere close to the same level with someone other than him was in the kitchen with Sidney, in those moments where he talked about Sidney's mom.
He had justified it far too many times. Falling into the habit of hurting Stu by punching, pushing and hitting him; he always seemed to have a reason to get his hands on him and Stu only ever encouraged it, but he’d never gotten himself into a situation where he was holding an actual weapon or had the ability to really, truly hurt him. The kitchen doesn’t count because he wasn’t thinking about anything but getting their plan to work then.
That was dangerous but not for Stu.
Stu was not making it any easier; the way he just seemed to accept that whatever Billy was going to do was fine and totally acceptable. He had the full ability to step up and tell him to stop, and yet all he did was stare, waiting for Billy to push the blade in.
Billy would justify it again. Telling himself that Stu needed punishment for giving him more work and ruining his night and that this was nothing to him but sending a message. What was another lie?
Billy didn’t feel the need to speak, a part of him worried that if he spoke, in the sort of mindset he was in right now, he might accidentally sound more lustful than angry.
He ran the blade across the thin skin of Stu’s neck. His neck strained, veins pulsing, and suddenly Stu wasn’t looking at him anymore. His eyes closed, but Billy couldn’t keep his eyes off him.
His face was heating up (obviously in anger), and his chest felt suddenly impossibly tight. Licking his lips, finding himself closer to Stu than he was a second ago, his leg between Stu's, which caused the man to shudder. He only put it there to keep himself balanced.
Billy ran the blade down his shoulder blades and collar bone, catching on to his vest, running the blade on the seam.
This was just Billy teaching Stu a lesson. Stu needed to be taught a lesson since he obviously didn’t seem all that shameful for what he had done and he wasn’t going to apologise for enjoying it.
That's what he told himself when he pushed the sharp part of the blade over his skin, cutting a fine line over his collarbone. Stu gasped, wincing as the pain slowly reached his brain. He watched as the small cut began coming apart, small drops of blood pricking out and falling down to the collar of his already red vest.
Billy’s skin was uncomfortably tight around his body, his face felt like it was covered by a plastic bag, and he could feel his restraint falling through his hands like sand, his fingers trying to grip at it but slipping off. It was scary and thrilling to see how fast things were falling out of his control.
Until it became too much and like a cap had popped off and suddenly Billy was cutting again, appreciating the way the skin slid away from itself, taking almost no pressure to cut through, and Stu's pained groans sent electrifying pulses running up and down his body.
It felt like someone was squeezing his lungs, his breath falling out of him in puffs of steam, and before he knew it, the blood from his face was moving downwards, growing with each new cut he made into Stu's collarbone and shoulder. The line seemingly more blurry and doing more just felt so easy.
The seams of his restraint snapping and whipping back at him, like cables of a bridge.
Billy's eyes were glaring into the cuts he was making, an intense focus and the urge to lick and bite over the seeping wounds tickling his thoughts but he had enough mind to know that was going too far but even so, it was so easy to yield to the thoughts he never would let grow in the glow of the daylight.
Billy should be scared and yet it was all just exciting, like he was chasing some new high.
At some point, he had somehow forgot that this was a living person, a person who was now practically moaning whenever the blade ran over his skin again, and yet Billy didn’t stop him, didn’t stop himself, or catch up that this wasn’t about punishment anymore, if it ever really was, as much as it was about feeding that ravenous beast in his stomach.
Nothing in the world was stopping him; Billy wasn’t even thinking about the fact someone could walk in, and if they did, what they were doing was nothing compared to the horror scene next to them anyways.
Nothing seemed to matter right now, like he was trapped in a box, allowed to give in to every deluded thought and urge. The future and the consequences seemingly unimportant when placed in front of something magnetic. Stu treated and respected him as a god - an untouchable being who was only here to break him down and build him back up better.
Billy tilted the blade up, putting the tip over unmarked skin, and without thinking, he let words fall out of his mouth. “You are f*cking disgusting, you know that?" Billy's words, while cruel, did not come out angry. No, they came out hot and far too lewd for any sober person to think this was normal for a guy to say to another man.
Billy's earlier attempts to stay clean were impossible when, at some point, he pushed his body into Stu’s space enough that Billy had full mobility but not enough that Billy wasn’t entirely conscious of just how much of Stu’s body was rubbing against his.
Whenever Stu tried to move or squirm, Billy would push his hand harder into his chest. Mumbling orders to keep himself still and Stu complied. He wasn’t blind, even with rose-tinted glasses, he could see how hard Stu was holding himself back.
He looked constipated for the moments before he brought the blade back down, his mouth hanging open as he melted under the pain and sting of the steel, and Billy just wanted to drink it all up, suck his breath out from his lips and f*ck, it was all too much for him.
Billy wouldn’t dare look down, knowing that he was in a very bad situation himself, and he doesn’t know what he’d do if Stu was in an equal or worse situation.
He let himself stay in the bubble he had created for himself. He was enjoying it far too much to want to give up despite the fact he knew he needed to. He had passed that line and was now running head first into unknown, forbidden territory.
His spare hand ran up Stu’s bloody shirt, going slow when he hit skin and his palm pushed, just below his jaw, pushing his head up so he wasn’t looking at him anymore. Billy couldn’t take the need that Stu was letting out like rivers through his eyes.
Stu’s breathing picked up when Billy slid his palm down and pushed his thumb and fingers into the gap in the muscle of his neck, feeling the fast drumming of Stu's heart. Cutting off the vein that ran blood up to his brain, he dug the knife down, cutting muscle and digging through Stu’s fat until he hit his collarbone; blood pooling over the blade and down, joining the man's blood on his clothes.
“Ahhh.. f*ck– Billy!" Stu moaned out, breaking the unspoken rule of not talking, it was like the world crashed back into place. The disgust he was meant to be feeling when he first felt himself grow hard and hot suddenly fell on him in waves.
Billy pulled the knife away, pushing his hand harder into Stu's neck, strangling him. Stu’s head craned back, only seeming to make him moan harder. Billy wanted to be sick—not because Stu was making him nauseous, but because hearing him moan so close to his ear, just made everything more sensitive and hot. Shivering want kicks the air out of his already struggling lungs.
From the way his skin felt under his touch, to the way his legs were almost squeezing Billy’s thigh. It was insane and he was not supposed to feel this way.
If Stu was a girl, this would be totally fine! Hell, he’d probably get all happy and excited that he was finally feeling something in a situation like this. But Stu was a man and Billy was not into men.
That lie was hard to swallow when every single atom in his body spoke otherwise but Billy was far too close to a mental breakdown to comprehend anything but that lie, so he swallowed it anyway.
Billy cursed to himself, still not daring to look down, and when he shifted, his leg met Stu's very obvious hard on, and it was like lightning shooting up his body. He quickly jolted back, punching Stu square in the stomach, causing him to fall to the ground, curling into himself, arms wrapped around his pulsing stomach, gagging.
“You sick f*cking bastard!" Billy yelled, his fist curled around the pocket knife. Billy still felt the blush on his cheeks and the heat all over his body, making it impossible to think straight. He quickly turned, leaving Stu reeling on the ground, and yet he didn’t think Stu would sit there in pain for long.
Billy ran to a bathroom, just like he did that day after showering Stu. Billy had gotten turned on over that as well, but nothing beat the need he felt now. The bathroom was one of those one-person-only rooms. A single toilet with a sink and stacks of toilet paper, a lazy way to make sure they don’t have to do their job.
The toilet was far from clean, and he was sure he wasn’t the only guy to run in here for privacy, but Billy couldn’t care less about other people right now, almost slamming the door open and locking it.
His hands were covered in blood. Whether the man's or Stu's were unknown, it didn’t matter anyway.
Billy disregarded the morality of unzipping his pants and working himself off quickly. He wasn’t doing this because Stu made him feel this way. This was a means to an end; it was quicker to get it over with now than to sit in some smelly, uncleaned toilet for an hour, waiting for it to go away on its own.
And if he was thinking of Stu the entire time, well that was his business and also completely irrelevant.
When Billy came back, he took 10 minutes to finish and clean himself up (most of that time, spent more on the clean up than the finishing part), refusing to leave until he didn’t look like some worked-up slu*t anymore.
He didn’t want to go back; he really really didn’t. But, he had a job to do, a job that actually mattered enough for him to suck up his disgust and shame to go back to the scene.
Stu was standing straight again, looking over the mess of the room, but when he caught eyes with Billy, the way his eyes widened and lit up, he was surprised he came back but he didn’t dare put that into words. The pain he was in earlier didn't show on his face, and Billy forcibly dodged the bandages wrapped over his collar and lower neck.
Billy was glaring hard, needing to gain control of this situation again and pretend that never happened. Stu didn’t seem to look any different; his expression was natural, his face was sweaty, but he didn’t have that smug grin on anymore, so at least something good came out of that. "Get the strong bleach – industrial level stuff, gloves, tape, a cloth, and a bucket. Look around, these places usually stock the hardcore stuff."
Stu nodded, stepping through the blood like it was nothing, and to him it was nothing. He was covered almost head-to-toe in the stuff, shirt sticking to his torso, and his pants looked heavier thanks to just how wet they looked.
Stu came out a second later, with a large jug of bleach in one hand and a bucket with the bright yellow rubber gloves, duct tape and a cloth in the other. His nose scrunched up. “Dude, we gotta get rid of him quickly, he’s already stinking up that room.”
Billy scoffed, crossing his arms as he leans up against the wall, away from the crime scene. "Yeah, well, maybe you should have thought about that before killing him.”
Stu huffed, knowing he had already lost, popping the cap off the bleach and turning to Billy. “What am I supposed to do now?" Billy stared for a moment before motioning onto the floor, he didn’t think he was this stupid. “Throw it on the floor and scrub.”
Stu looked down at the open-capped bleach, looking back up at Billy with pleading eyes. “But Billy—"
Billy cut him off quickly, not interested in Stu’s bitching. “No. Get on the damn floor and scrub up the mess you made.”
Stu tried giving him some form of puppy eyes; why he even tries Billy doesn’t know. Not even on a good day would Billy fall for that, and he especially isn’t falling for it today. “Fine.”
Stu dropped the bleach jugs onto the floor, the blood splatting on the bottom since he put them down in the middle of a pool of it. Stu slipped on the rubber gloves he had found, Billy helped put the tape over his wrists so no bleach would get into the gloves and put on a mask, throwing one over to Billy, who promptly put it on, getting back so he could sit on a small waiting room table.
Stu tipped the industrial-level bleach all over the floor. The thick chemicals instantly affecting the mess. The blood mixed with the bleach, the colours and thickness breaking down into slush. The smell was so powerful it hit Billy straight in the face, making his eyes water, and Stu just accepted a while ago that his clothes were screwed. As long as it didn’t touch his skin, he was fine.
Usually you’d add water to this power of bleach since the smell alone was enough to be classified as a chemical weapon, but with the amount of blood on the floor and the fact Billy could see even from here that the blood had begun thickening and setting, it was enough of an indication that watering the bleach down was just going to make things so much harder, and while Billy was looking to punish Stu, he wasn’t looking to actually kill him.
Billy watched as Stu kneeled down to the floor, not actually getting on his knees since the bleach would just seep straight through his clothes. More squatting and scrubbing desperately into the reddened slop.
Billy coughed; despite the thick mask covering his face, he could still smell the bleach, the smell still burning his throat and nose, and it didn’t seem Stu was doing any better, heaving but not stopping.
But despite that, Billy felt a smirk grow on his lips as he watched Stu suffer on the floor, his hands scrubbing away at the mess he had made. There was something about the way he felt when Stu did stuff for him without really complaining.
Billy's anger dissipated slowly as the minutes went on. Stu didn’t complain, not to him, but he could see from the way Stu’s body was trembling that he was struggling.
Billy knew Stu was still hurt and perhaps what Billy had done didn’t help. Obviously, not hurt enough not to kill someone, but hurt enough that doing work for 40 minutes was really grating him down.
But soon enough, the floor and walls were clean. Stu wiped down everything, from the counter to the computer, making sure there were no traces of himself in the room.
The room smelled sickly like bleach, but now that Stu had cleaned and dried the floor up, the smell was more bearable. Bearable, being a strong word since both boys decided not to take their mask off to test if their bodies would break down if they took a clear smell.
The body was a pain to figure out but Billy wasn’t just sitting and watching (he was definitely doing that, loving the way Stu's face was strained and tears rolled down his face from the chemicals), but he also spent the time figuring out what they were going to do with the body.
Billy had figured that maybe it didn’t have to be a waste of a good body. The Ghostface killings had stopped being such a news headline since it had been over a week since they had done anything, and his mom didn’t seem to be jumping into getting back into it.
This body could be a message - he knew Sidney would recognise the way the body was killed. Stu was always a messy killer, which would be an insane change from the earlier kills that were just to get the person dead and move on.
It would be like an explosive hello, and Billy couldn’t help that he was theatrical.
Their perfect way to get back into the swing of it. Not that Billy was going to tell Stu that his stupid, impulsive decision was to anyone's benefit; he still would have preferred if he had planned this, but maybe he wouldn’t kill Stu today.
Now that the floor was walkable again, Billy jumped off the table he had been sitting on, walking up to Stu and patting his back. “Good job.”
The way Stu’s expression went from down-right miserable to delighted was like a light switch which created a warm pool in his chest, and he nearly punched himself for it.
“I have an idea for the body, but I need to call my mom because we will not get this moved on our own.”
Stu nodded, pulling out a portable mobile and passing it over to Billy. “I found this while cleaning. I think it's the victim's.”
Billy grinned, his fingers rubbing over the rubber of the keypad. It looked like a smaller kind of radio but the screen glowed so it definitely was a phone. “I have my own, you keep it. We’ll need it later.”
Stu gave him a knowing look before putting it back into his pocket. Billy pulled out his own phone; his mom bought it for him, explaining that it was now easier to track calls and not to use it for his ‘special’ calls.
Just for personal calls, which is why the guy's phone was so helpful.
He dialed his mom's number as he left the room, pulling the mask down and taking the first clean breath in an hour, not having to wait long before it was answered. "Yes, Billy, dear?"
"I need the car. I have an idea for the body, but it involves dropping it on the college campus.”
It didn’t take long before he heard movement down the mobile and a car engine. "Okay dear, are you sure? The campus security was turned up after all the damage me and Mickey did.”
Billy leaned up on the wall, feeling the cold air push against his face. “I’ve been keeping track of that. The security was turned down the other day since the police think the killer has moved on.”
“We should be able to do what we need to do and get out before anyone the wiser.”
“Do you remember where Sidney is staying?" His mom hummed, static buzzing for a moment before her voice became clear again. “Yes, Mickey said she was staying in some college dorm. I scouted it out; it's your average college dorm.”
“Great, I'll see you in a second… I love you, mom.” Billy whispered the last part, still uncomfortable with saying it out loud, but it felt right to say it. He always said it when his mom was still around, so it was a habit he slipped back into far faster than he realized he would.
His mom made a kissy sound over the phone. “Love you too.”
The phone beeped, and Billy pocketed his own again, hitting the pocket knife he now had in his pocket as well, taking another long breath before pulling his mask up and getting back into the room. Stu had dragged the man back in, wrapped in layers of towels and blankets so he wouldn’t make a mess. It also blocked off Billy's view of the guy, feet and hair sticking out from either end. Billy nodded, happy that he didn’t need to tell Stu what to do all the time.
It was nice to know he had a brain up in that head, even if it was only sometimes.
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