You’d known Woodsboro could be weird, but lately, it’s been something else entirely. People you talk to- people who flirt, joke, or even just hang around you too long become a victim of the ghostface killers. You tell yourself that’s all it is.. bad timing and rumors.

Stu doesn’t make it easy to think otherwise. He’s the same as always- all grin and energy, spinning you around the living room to music you didn’t even hear start playing, pressing kisses against your cheek until you forget why you were anxious. “Babe,” he laughs, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “you’ve been watching too much TV. Coincidences happen.”

It’s hard to argue when he’s smiling like that. Harder when Billy’s there, quiet as ever, the type of silence that feels heavy. When they share one of their glances- that wordless, private kind of look that it feels like walking into a scene halfway through the movie, already too far in to ask what’s going on.

Every time you bring it up, Stu talks you down, makes you feel silly. “You’re saying the universe is out to get you?” he teases, voice low, soft enough that it sounds almost kind. “I think you just need to chill. C’mere.”

And you do. You always do.

Still, at night, when the news plays too loud from downstairs and your phone lights up with another alert to a new kill, you can’t shake the feeling that you know exactly what’s happening- you just can’t prove it.