deviants (Stuilly / Billy x Stu / Stu x Billy)

This is what concerns you?

April 1995, Woodsboro, CA.

I lay on top of Stu, my cheek pressed against his bare chest. I can hear his heart beating under my ear, a rhythm I find oddly comforting. I feel his fingers stroking through my hair and his breath gently blowing against my scalp, he must be looking at me. I don't want this moment to end. I don't want to return to reality just yet. I know I'll ruin it somehow, I always do. I look down and see my body on top of his; our torsos pressed together with his legs twisted over mine, locking me in place so I can't leave. I suppress a laugh, why on earth would I want to do that?

I notice a quiet ticking and move my eyes around the room and see an old grandfather clock just opposite the couch we're on. Next to the clock is a dark oak looking cabinet with a television inside it that looks like it's from the seventies. The cabinet has little compartments which are full of video tapes, many horror titles I know and some I've never heard of. I can see our reflection in the dark black glass of the screen, our bodies intertwined, as one. How can something so wrong feel this right? And look so damn good too.

Fag. I mentally shake myself, I look to the other side of the room and notice something out of place, well as out of place for an attic full of mutilated dolls I guess. The window at the end of the room is covered with dark sheets and next to it stands a table with multiple trays and some bottles of liquids. Above them are rows of string hanging across the width of the room, attached by pegs are four pieces of film drying.

I raise my head slightly "You develop your own photos?"

I feel him shuffle underneath "Yeah"

I turn carefully, positioning myself so I can see his face "you never told me that"

"You never asked"

"You never said you were into photography for me to ask that question" I raise my right eyebrow, trying not to sound irritated even though I am. How stupid of me to expect him to tell me every detail of his life when I'm barely able to communicate as it is. But that's exactly what I want. I need to know his every thought.

"I said I loved movies, everyone knows that about me" He looks away, his heart feels faster. He's avoiding.

"That's not the same thing" I slowly sit up, lifting myself up with my hands braced on the brown suede couch that looks like it's from the same period as the television. Stu moves his legs so I'm able to get up, as I twist my body to stand I get a short pain shoot up my ass and mutter "shit" under my breath. Fuck. This is new.

"You good? You should really take a bath now, it helps"

"How do you know? This isn't your first time being a fag" I say, my tone more tainted then needed.

"I just heard that's something you should do, that's all."

I bite my bottom lip as I bend over to pick up the boxers and pull them on and walk over to the photographs hanging from the makeshift dark room. I touch the photo closest to the single bare lightbulb hanging from the middle of the room, illuminating the room in a yellowish glow. Before I lift it, Stu stumbles behind me nearly falling over his own pile of clothes

"They're nothing worth looking at" He laughs, too loud. Too fake. Trying to take it from me. I turn quickly dodging his hand and look at the photo. It's a photo of me. He tries to grab it again but I turn away from him and look at the next one. It's another one of me. I pluck that one off too and the next and the next.

"What the fuck?" I stutter, Stu falls silent behind me. I look at the four photos in my hands, each one different. From different days, all candid. All that I didn't know I was being photographed.

"Look Billy, I can explain"

"You can? How can you explain this? A school project?" I say sardonically. I stare at myself embossed in the glossy print. Three were taken right here in the Macher house, I recognise the mahogany furniture of the living room, the beige cabinets of the kitchen both photos with me just in the midst of my own thoughts, my dark eyes looking vacant. Looking lost. And lastly I recognise the green sheets of Stu's bed, with me asleep on them. Curled tightly in on myself. The final photo was taken outside my house, I'm stood one hand in my hair the other with a cigarette in my mouth. I remember that day, a black shadow sits below my left eye, a reminder from my Father and I's last argument. I lost. I flick through them; quickly looking at each photo, one after the other, trying to understand why the hell anyone would take these?

I feel Stu put his hand on my forearm, I stare into his sky blue eyes. His blonde hair tousled and messy from my own hands. Why don't I see the same darkness in him?

"I like to take pictures, and I really like you. So I take some photos occasionally" He tries to laugh that fake laugh. I stare at him again. He looks away.

"I didn't know you were taking them, don't you think that's weird?"

He laughs a real laugh this time, stepping back dropping his hand from me and almost doubling over.

"Fuck, It's not funny!"

"Dude we both just admitted that we wanna kill people and this is what concerns you?" He keeps laughing, wiping at tears with his hands.

I look down at the floor and back up at him, gathering himself. He's not wrong.

"We're a fucking mess, aren't we?" I nearly laugh, realising the gravity of this whole fucked up situation.

"Yep! If it makes you feel better, I wasn't just following you around like that guy from peeping tom. I always take photos at parties and stuff.. and sometimes I just can't ignore the beauty of you. You get this look about you man, that I can't explain. Those eyes. I just had to capture them. I know I should have asked but I knew you would have called me a faggot or whatever" He looks at me, more seriously now. How long have we both felt the same way and were both too scared do anything about it?

I put the photographs on the cabinet and walk up to him and wrap my arms around him, he rests his head on top of mine.

"You're a man of few words William Loomis and I wanted to know what was going on in that mind of yours. You've got no idea how happy I am knowing that now" His voice almost a whisper again, he kisses the top of my head.

I step back and look up at him "So what happens next?"