𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟑: 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐭

"Put your hands up where I can see them you homosexual", demands Dewey as he approaches Billy's confused figure. I approached the corner of the van and peered around it, locking eyes with Billy's dark shit brown eyes. I could see his eyes clouding with mischievous intentions, but the panicked look on his face told me otherwise. How he actively protested Deweys claims of slaying those homosapiens, how he had those beautiful, transparent tears streaming down his face; the movement being akin to that of a snake slithering, very fluid and entrancing. Somehow, the tears made the boy more beautiful. They showed his raw emotions and this new side to him that I'd never seen before, panic. It was truly majestic to see the boys range of expression, very contradicting to his usual stone cold front he showed to others.

I become mesmerised by this boy, entranced even. As if he had hypnotised me. If he requested even the simplest of tasks, I would adhere to them with full effort. But what am I thinking? This is the same boy who just killed my closest friends....who has ruined my life, yet I yearn to leave all that in the past(it happened like under 4 hours ago) and envelope him in a warm embrace. He gives me a slight smirk, and his eyebrows look like they're in different time zones. I snap out of his soporific gaze and turn away. A million thoughts run ramped in mind, like kids at primary school sports day. "Hey, Evan, you okay?" Tate inquires, giving me a bland look. I don't reply and look at the falling sun in the horizon, silently letting my mental illness seep down my cheeks. By this point, Louis has fallen into a slumber, their head leaning against the box of local anaesthetic. Tate slumps back against the ambulance's wall, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. I can smell his absolutely rancid breath from where i'm sitting, it's like a mixture of applewood smoked chedder cheese and mens 69 in 1 shampoo.

I too let out a sigh, not one of relief but not one of distress either. I was conflicted, like my entire existance was an oxymoron. Somewhere deep down I knew Billy was guilty, that small sliver of malicious intent standing out within his caca brown orbs. But this thought was overpowered by my growing feelings for the boy. As if he had planted a seed of affection within me, and it was continuing to grow until the newly found feelings were all I could think of. My mind just wouldn't let them die.I looked up as i heard a new sound. The sound of speedy footsteps, as if they were panicked and desperate for human contacts. I closed my eyes for a split second, and opened them almost immediately as I felt a new pair of arms wrap my figure up like a fragile gift.

My eyes flutter open at the contact, and i am met with a black trench coat surrounding my face. The smell of gunpowder and sandalwood, and I suddenly knew who it was; only one man in Woodsboro decorated himself with Tidal Waves Piss cologne. Jason Dean. "Jd?" I mutter, and the hug tightens, "Evan, I was so worried for you, I ran 60 miles after I heard the news from a little bird". He stands back and crouches in front of me. I let a wave of relief wash over me, and I look this man in his usually hardened, stoic eyes; but today, they were different. They were soft, and I knew just from his expression, that this man was actually concerned for me. "Are you alright?" He says holding onto my hand, which is absolutely soaked in sweat. "Yeah" I mutter, "I'm just, shocked it was Billy". Jd sighs dramatically, and tenses up at the name "Billy". "Ah, well Billiam is a funny one. Don't let his use of 'Baby button' spin you into his deadly cobweb. He isn't who he says it is" JD smiles at me, and part of me wants to believe his words, his genuine smile, his (not so) charming features.

Against my better judgement, I believed his tainted words and tapped tapped tapped the spare seat next to me. He nodded at the gesture and placed his flat ass onto the seat. Before he sat down I had caught a glance at his flat ass, how it looked like it had undergone abrasion it was that fucking smooth and lacking of shape. After he had sat down, he immediately pulled me into another embrace. This time it felt more sinister, more calculated. Due to my panicked state and undeniable need for support right now, I failed to notice how JD was sitting directly opposite from Tate. Again, against my better judgement I leaned further into the embrace and didn't notice the harsh glares that the two professional gaslighters were giving eachother. If looks could kill, they'd both die a second time.

 I snuggle into JD's armpit, and let my dreary eyes close, letting the sleep of oblivion overtake my senses like local anaesthetic. Unbeknownst to me, Billy is currently being shoved into a cop car, and watching me from his position. Anger filling his organs so badly he may possibly need a transplant. JD and him lock eyes, and JD smirks at him, and this time Billy isn't the only one who's eyebrows weren't in a different timezone.