𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖

𝐒𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭'𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟓

He would rather die than admit it and kill anyone who found out, but Billy Loomis had a soft spot for you.

Every little thing in Billy's life had been meticulously planned since the moment his mom walked out when he was thirteen. It was his way of coping; controlling everything within his realm of control. Who needed therapy when he had a perfectly good jumble of complexes to keep his mind busy?

That's how he eventually came up with his big life plan. It was simple, not his finest work: Get a decent college scholarship for football, marry his high school sweetheart, Sidney Prescott, have a few meaningless affairs, and live comfortably off of their combined earnings before retiring in his late sixties.

This plan was easy. This plan was simple. This plan was everything he could ever want.

But then he just had to meet you.

Billy practically melted whenever you spoke, which got on his nerves after a while because your words were always directed at either Randy or Sid, the girl he'd been toting around on his arm since Freshman year. 

He wasn't like Stu. He couldn't cycle through girls like copies of Newsweek, picking out the ones that best fit his image before tossing them out when they started talking about crazy shit like commitment. He couldn't afford to. Not with his dad breathing down his neck about football 24/7.

You were sweet and shy, and he had to give Sidney some credit — you weren't anyone he would have approached on his own without her. But from the minute you opened your mouth, he was hooked.

"Billy?"

He looked up from his hands, not bothering to fix the hair that had fallen into his eyes. He didn't want to be at this stupid party, but maybe Stu was onto something with the whole camouflage thing. Sidney's house was full of kids from their school and he blended in perfectly with that half-empty red solo cup in hand.

Sid was standing in front of him, one hand clutched loosely around the neck of a brown glass bottle. The other was latched onto the arm of some poor girl who looked even less happy to be there than he did. "Billy," she greeted again, shooting him that smile that read 'be nice' without her having to say it. "This is my friend (Y/N)."

He let his eyes roll over you shamelessly, not really caring if his girlfriend noticed but still hoping she wouldn't. Anyone could have seen that you were drop-dead gorgeous — from the way you chewed innocently on your bottom lip or the fact that you were the only one at that party with a bottle of soda in your hands instead of liquor. You intrigued him from the start.

You were everything he wasn't; Sweet, thoughtful, dangerously adorable. He hated when people looked at you, breathed near you, god forbid touched you. But at the same time, he soaked up that attention when you were in his company.

Good, he would think, hiding his smirk to nod along as you gushed about whatever new movie you had seen. Let them look. Let them see me and her together. That's all they'll ever be able to do, anyway.

Billy ended up leaving that party early although every fiber in his being was begging him to stay by your side for as long as possible. It felt like lightbulbs were going off in his brain during the bike ride home. You were the missing piece of his plan. You were everything he'd been looking for.

Without stopping to catch his breath, he jogged upstairs and cleared off his desk, fishing around in his backpack for an unused composition notebook that he kept there. '(Y/N)' he wrote at the very top of the first page, pausing briefly to admire your name on paper. 

Billy's fingers drummed against the surface of his desk. He hadn't had much to drink at the party, but the alcohol was swirling around with the adrenaline and made his fingers twitch. He needed a partner. Someone to pick up where he leaves off if he ever needs to make a quick getaway. Someone ignorant enough to agree to it but sadistic enough to keep on going. Someone with potential, but not more than his.

STEP ONE: Get Stu on board.

You were close with Casey Becker — Macher's now ex-girlfriend. Billy could never stand her. Too needy. At least Sidney was a die-hard virgin.

STEP TWO: Kill Casey Becker.

He'd always wondered what it felt like to kill someone — to slip a knife under their flesh and pull. Reading about it was one thing and so was seeing it in the news. But it was another experience entirely to spill someone's guts out onto the pavement and to feel their hot blood pooling in the cracks of his hands.

The thought alone made Billy gulp and sit back in his chair. He could picture you sitting in front of him, bloody handprints marking every inch of your flesh, lips flush and red from where he would have been attacking them with little nips and bites. There'd be blood all over you — maybe Sidney's, maybe Casey's — but it would make you look so fucking pretty that he wouldn't care.

Billy licked his lips and readied the pen in his dominant hand.

STEP THREE: Get rid of Sidney Prescott.

It wasn't until a few months later that he completed the first step and added Tatum's name next to Sidney's as well. Before long, both boys were driving two states over to raid smalltown Halloween stores, just to make sure no one in Woodsboro recognized them with the costume in hand. 

At least until they were wearing it to terrorize the people who got between you and their precious (Y/N).

(A/N: We can assume that the flashback chapters are going to be around 1000 words now. Stu is so much easier to write for because Billy is actually a fucking psychopath. Jesus, this guy scares me. Anyway, I promised an update tonight so yall shall recieve. I only read through this twice so if there are any mistakes, let me know! Also, if you have any requests for songs to put on the playlist I am all ears).