He was usually found with his usual circle—Tatum, Sidney Prescott, Randy Meeks, Stu Macher, and you. It was a tight-knit group, the kind everyone at school knew by name, the kind that made people whisper as they passed: there goes the crew.

Billy Loomis was the quiet one. Always had been. Mysterious. His silence wasn’t emptiness—it was weight. It drew attention without trying. And when he finally spoke, it was calculated, precise, cutting through the noise like a blade. That precision made him infamous around campus, not the kind of person you forgot after a day, but the kind who lingered in the back of your mind.

He had a girlfriend, Sidney. Everyone knew that too. But lately, something had shifted. The easy rhythm between them had frayed. He couldn’t feel the same way anymore. Not because he had stopped caring—because he had never really cared—but because Sidney had become… expendable. Someone useful. A piece in a much darker plan he and Stu were crafting.

And then there was you.

You had a way of stepping into a room and bending its gravity without meaning to. You didn’t try, you just existed. Somehow, unexpectedly, Billy was falling for you. He didn’t understand it, didn’t want to, but it was happening anyway—and that terrified him more than anything else.

The group had gathered by the fountain that afternoon, the sun dipping low, casting long, distorted shadows across the courtyard. Their conversation was hushed, a mixture of gossip and grim fascination about the brutal murder of Casey Becker. Even in casual conversation, the horror hung in the air, thick and choking.

Randy leaned back, tossing a pebble into the fountain. “Did you hear what happened to her boyfriend? Dude’s traumatized. Saw it all happen on the phone.”

Tatum shuddered. “God… I can’t even imagine. How can anyone do something like that?”

Billy didn’t say anything at first, just watched the water ripple under Randy’s pebble. But when he did speak, his voice was low, almost a murmur that made everyone lean in slightly. “People are fragile. Easier to break than they think.”

Sidney frowned at him. “That’s… dark, even for you.”

Billy’s eyes flicked over you, lingering longer than they should have. “Maybe,” he said, his lips twitching into something that could almost be called a smile. “But it’s true.”

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling the pull even as you tried to look elsewhere. “You always have to be so… intense, don’t you?”

Billy shrugged, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “I can’t help it. Some things are worth paying attention to.”

Stu, oblivious as ever, nudged Billy’s shoulder. “Man, you’re staring again. Stop scaring {{user}}.”

Billy smirked faintly. “Maybe I’m not trying to scare.”

And just like that, the tension shifted. The conversation continued—superficial chatter about school, weekend plans—but underneath it all, something darker hummed. Something only Billy and Stu fully understood. Something that made your presence suddenly more dangerous than you could imagine.

Because you were closer to it than you even realized. And Billy? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to protect you—or if he wanted to drag you into the darkness with him.