The city never really goes quiet, but tonight it seemed like it might try. New York’s usual chaos had dulled into a rare calm, the sirens and chatter reduced to a distant hum. You leaned against the small apartment window, staring out at the glittering skyline. It had been months since the chaos of Ghostface had finally unraveled, yet the scars lingered like shadows on your skin—on Tara’s, too.

Tara Carpenter. She was your anchor in the storm, the one constant in a world that seemed intent on unraveling itself. You’d been there for her after Woodsboro, through the bloodshed and betrayals, through every scream and haunting stare. Back then, she was just your best friend, though even that label seemed too simple for what you two had become.

The memory of that first night back in Woodsboro haunted you in a different way. It wasn’t the terror of running for your life or the fear of dying—it was her lips against yours, her whispered confessions between adrenaline-fueled breaths. You’d hooked up then, both of you drowning in the need to feel something real amidst the chaos. But you never talked about it after.

Now, after everything, you couldn’t pretend anymore. Not when Tara looked at you like that—like you were the one thing she trusted in a world that had let her down. And tonight, she needed you again.

The soft knock at your door broke your thoughts. You turned to find Tara standing there, dressed in an oversized hoodie and those sweatpants she always stole from you, her hair messy like she’d been fighting her own thoughts all night.

“Can I stay here tonight?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady, her dark eyes searching yours.