TW: Tension through the roof. Mentions of death. Acquaintances to Awkwardly budding friendship. The reader has a scar. Knives as a metaphor.
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"-and a karambit." You drawled, tilting your head as you finger the tip of the black curved blade. It stings as you press down, and you stop before you break the skin. "Nothing too impressive. Nothing like Stu would have."
Billy's eyes trace molten on your back as you show him your modest knife collection of two. A karambit and a skinner. Hardly anything notable, and mainly there for either collection or protection. It was a desperate attempt to demolish the awkward small talk you two had started once he arrived. You place them down and turn, rubbing your finger across your nose and sniffling slightly before moving to sit back on your computer chair, propping one foot up on your bed. The bed Billy was currently sitting on.
"Hello?"
Billy snaps out of his reverie, seemingly just now realizing both you and he were still present and existing. You frown; it has been happening a lot lately. Billy getting in his head with cogs so loud you wonder if he hears them above whatever self-pity he wallows in. You knew it was handled.
He had Stu and Sidney after all. And the only reason you had invited him here was out of favor to the latter.
Of your friend group, Billy was probably the one you felt the least connected to. Sidney, in all her sweetness and fealty, had just smiled and said Billy was usually distant to newer people. And that was probably why she had asked this of you.
You were a third-eye. A new, flashy toy in the eyes of Woodsboro's citizens, the most exciting thing since Sidney's mom was brutally violated and ripped apart. It made sense for her to ask the one person Billy hadn't known since elementary to try and bring him out of his shell. The problem was it was spiked, and it hurt to have him look at you sometimes. You feel antlike under his gaze, smaller than small, and you have no doubt getting close to someone with so much baggage was a terrible idea.
Ever since his mom left, she had said, he seemed to close off to anyone that wasn't Stu.
"Yeah, sorry. It's a nice knife. Both of them are." Billy cracks his neck as he stretches, before resting his upper arms on his bent knees. "Mind if I take a closer look?"
"Sure. Go ahead and grab them. I'll pop in the movie."
You almost don't hear the shifting of Billy's movements as he gets up and walks to your dresser. Almost. As stealthy as he was, your ears had been fine-tuned to listening pins drop. You don't know why, but you could imagine Billy skulking over, twisting and turning the knife in his palms as any light mirrored onto his face. You wonder how his dark eyes would look with some shine in them.
You turn to see, and you almost stop dead in your tracks at how close Billy is to you now. The knife, the skinner, is in his hand, and he's gripping the handle so tightly his knuckles are pale. Your breath catches, and his does too, and you're a second from dashing away to the shelf that held the other knife.
"Billy? What are y-?"
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you, just wanted to show you something on the handle." Billy gives an apologetic smile, the exact kind that probably won girls like Sidney over, and a glance down shows you its reflection in his hands, upside down and grimacing. He brings up his hands in surrender though, including the one now only loosely gripping the knife. "The handle is actual-"
"Don't ever do that again."
Billy loses that fake friendly smile, mock confusion furrowing his brows.
"What?"
"If you ever do that again Billy, I'll go apeshit on you. I'm serious." You hiss out, and the sounds of Halloween's theme pound the air and your ears alike. Billy's eyes bore into yours as his smile drops a little, so dark they look concave in the TV light, and you realize now that even a glint doesn't brighten them up.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." A beat. "You don't need to overreact."
You scoff at his attempt to downplay the situation, and your hand moves up to the pounding scar tissue at your shoulder, a habit you haven't been able to break since you got it. Cool fingers glide under your T-shirt's collar before sliding against the bumpy texture, attempting to soothe searing ghost pains. Billy's eyes drift briefly towards the movement before snapping to your other hand as it reaches out to grab the knife.
"Give it here, Leatherface." You quip, a small attempt at lightening the mood so you wouldn't have to explain why you lashed out the way you did. An amused smirk doesn't appear on Billy's face like you expected, rather, he frowns, before looking down at his hand and handing the knife to you. Your fingers brush, the haft feeling like ice, and you observe Billy lick his chapped lips as he burns holes into the steel parts of his hands.
Gripping the knife makes you feel powerful. Makes you feel like you're more in charge than you are at any given moment. Taking that away from Billy feels better than it should, especially as you watch his shoulders tighten like a spring. Maybe you were a bit of a masochist, but the anxiety building in Billy brought you something akin to pleasure. Or at least relief. He felt the opposite, you were sure. But you cared more about your comfort than his at a moment like this.
A beat of awkward silence follows before Billy heads over to your room's door and slides on his shoes.
"I think I'll head out." The words feel solid in the space and you're sorta glad that Billy doesn't turn around when he leaves.
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Make sure to send in a character beebs! I went with Stu for this one since it wasn't specified. Also went with Ghostface! Reader with this one mix it up!
This can be read as platonic or romantic on the reader's part. Anyway, have a drabble!
