Chapter Text
The fluorescent LED lights flickered above in the third period shop class, slightly dulled by Billy's safety glasses.
The school counselor had recommended "hands- on learning" to help with emotional regulation. Instead, it gave him access to sharp objects and power tools.
It smelled of sawdust and burnt metal--gritty and sharp; The kind of smell that sticks to your skin.
His eyes locked on Stu, across the room, causing a scene like always.
Stu was throwing woodchips at Randy and ducking as sandpaper came hurling back. Randy was screeching loudly and repeatedly accusing him of being high. Billy smiled a little under his breath, not even aware he was even doing it.
Stu was only there because he'd gotten kicked out of art class for "accidently" gluing someone's binder to the floor.
Billy was on the other side of the room, sanding a piece of wood he pretended to care about. The atmosphere was messy, loud--no shop teacher in sight.
Nothing unusual. He could tune out most of the bulshit. Until a voice behind him sliced through the noise.
A familiar smug voice. The nasally tone that sounded like he was trying to impress someone.
Kyle fucking Brennan.
"I mean, no wonder Macher's like that. His mom's in and out of rehab, right? I bet it runs in the family."
The group let out chuckles behind him, obnoxiously loud. Too loud.
A suspiciously calm, familiar click signaled through Billy's brain in a sharp wave. He felt his heart slow, like his body knew what he was about to do, and wanted to savor the silence.
He felt his legs take control, shifting without purpose, like watching himself move through a window.
He set the sandpaper down delicately and slowly, and turned around to face Kyle before he could stop himself.
For a split second, Kyle was laughing. Before he could look up at Billy, his face was bashed by the thick piece of wood in Billy's hands. It cracked down the middle before anyone could even react.
Kyle felt the force knock him backwards, stumbling into the edge of a workbench. He let out a sharp yelp as the shocked screams around the room amplified.
"Holy shit!"
"Loomis!"
Billy stood hovered over Kyle, the broken wood in his hands now splattered with blood.
It clattered to the floor in a haunting thud.
Kyle regained composure temporarily, dazed but furious, wiped his blood dripping nose and lunged.
He quickly knocked and pinned Billy down, knuckles cracking a punch square into his nose.
Billy felt the warm blood rush down his lip.
He didn't feel the pain--not right away at least.
When he jerked his head back up, that's when he saw it: Tiny slivers of wood embedded in Kyle's cheek, blood soaked and glistening.
They stuck out like shards of broken glass.
He hoped it stung.
He swung once more, catching the side of Kyle's neck in a striking blow. They heard yelling and chanting before arms tried to grab Billy.
"Fight, fight, fight!"
Billy pulled from a grasp, feeling another crucial sting smack his face.
He landed square on Kyles already-bruised eye.
He didn't care anymore.
All he saw were splinters.
By the time he felt himself slowly get dragged off, Billy felt weirdly satisfied with the bloody work below him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It left a bright red stain.
As he was pulled away from the room, thrashing in a half-coherent fit, he caught eyes with Stu. Just momentarily.
"That guy's fucking crazy," Kyle sputtered as his friends helped him up. "I just said something about his dumb boyfriend and.."
The conversation and laughter got drowned out as Stu watched Billy's shadow disappear from the doorway.
Stu didn't move at first. He stared in a mix of horror and awe, mouth wide open, blinking like he couldn't register what just happened.
Then his lips twitched. Not a smile, just a tiny, amused flicker.
Randy slowly turned his head, a petrified look on his face.
Stu made a mental prediction of whatever dumb quip he had to say.
He assumed something along the lines of "Let's never piss off Loomis again," or "Are we gonna pretend that attempted murder didn't just happen before lunch?"
Instead, Randy just said, "This is how all horror movies start, by the way. Blinded by rage and love. Just sayin'."
Stu gave him a look, an eyebrow raised.
Randy put his hands up in surrender, grinning before continuing.
"He wouldn't do that for Sidney. That's all I'm saying. Talk about 'hands-on learning.' I'm suddenly very pro-therapy."
There was a beat of awkward silence, chatter regaining volume in the room.
Stu said nothing, looking back to the blood stained floor.
Finally, the bell rang.
Just like that, the chaos was over. Some stepped over the blood like it wasn't even there. A few stepped faster.
He felt Kyle burning into his soul but refused to make eye contact.
The shop teacher finally reappeared, a half-eaten granola bar in hand and looking wildy out of his depth, stopping in his tracks at the sight of the blood and horrified expressions.
Stu didn't move, not until Randy leaned over, voice low.
"Okay, but like, not be a dick--but Billy was on top of another guy for like a solid minute. How you holding up?"
Stu rolled his eyes before standing up fully.
"Yes. I'm emotionally devastated," He deadpanned.
Randy choked on a laugh.
"Kiddin'."
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The office felt cold, like a dentist's or a doctor's office. Billy hated the office. He hated how much time he spent there, and he hated that he always got blamed.
Billy picked splinters from his knuckles and examined the blood stains on his flannel. Annoyance radiated through him when he realized it was his favorite one.
He dreaded every distant sound--heels clicking, chatter, bells ringing, laughter. He already knew the drill, he just didn't want to deal with it. They'd call his dad. He would get suspended. His dad would ground him.
But his mind was elsewhere.
He thought of Stu, wondering if he would get it. He would probably make some dumb joke. He always did.
He stared straight forward at the wall, observing the principals desk in front of him.
When he heard the door click open behind him, he didn't move, arms crossed.
"Dude. What the shit."
Stu.
Billy turned to look behind him, a confused expression on his face.
Stu stood in the doorway holding a bag of Skittles, eyes wide and beaming.
"You got blood on your flannel," Stu pointed out, making his way over and sitting beside him, offering him a skittle like a peace treaty.
And somehow...Stu got it. He understood.
There was a moment of silence, and Billy's mouth felt glued shut. Like he couldn't face the reality of what he just did.
"Hey, Billy?"
Billy turned his head slightly, still staring straight ahead.
"You know Kyle's a dick, he always will be. You didn't have to do that. For me."
Billy considered this a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek.
"I know," He said flat and quiet.
Then softer, barely audible:
"But I wanted to."
Stu's heart stuttered, and he felt something inside him crack, just a little bit.
Now it was his turn to stare at the wall, biting back a smile.
He felt Billy turn his head slightly, observing him with dark unreadable eyes.
Stu didn't say anything, just shifted his leg until their knees touched. They stayed like that for a couple moments.
It was the kind of silence that should feel awkward, but just wasn't. A charged, comfortable silence.
Still, Stu still shifted, like he couldn't help himself. Thinking back to Randy's banter. Like he had to break the silence.
"It was still painful watching you on top of another guy, making him bleed," Stu teased. "I thought we had something special."
Billy rolled his eyes, sighing as he pulled his knee away. He didn't answer immediately.
He turned his head to look at him, really look at him.
Stu caught the stare, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.
"You always do that," Billy finally said, not angry, but flat.
"Do what?" Stu cocked his head, smile faltering.
"Make a joke out of everything. Like none of this shit is real. Like it didn't happen."
Stu blinked, caught by surprise. The Skittles bag crinkled in his hand as he stopped fidgeting with it.
"No I don't," He retorted defensively, brows furrowed. "I mean--"
He spoke quieter, looking down. "That's a bit hypocritical coming from you. You're not exactly Gary Chapman about communication either."
Billy nodded once, slowly. "Yeah. I know."
He turned his gaze forward again. "But it isn't hard for you to talk. You talk all the time. Why hide behind dumb jokes?"
Stu sighed, looking up at the ceiling as he fidgeted with his hands.
"Because I never know when people mean it or not," He responded honestly. "I guess if I joke first, it can hurt later. I didn't even know you gave that much of a shit about me."
Stu let out a dry chuckle, like he regretted saying it the second it left his mouth.
Billy flickered his gaze from the wall down to his hands in his lap.
"If I didn't give a shit," He said, voice low, "I wouldn't have just ended Kyle's face-modeling career."
A beat of silence. The air between them felt still again--quiet, but full.
Before Stu could answer, the door opened behind them. They both turned to see Principal Himbry standing in the doorway, an exhausted expression on his face.
"Billy. I need you to step outside with me."
Billy rose, pushing his chair in. He hesitated a moment, before leaning in closer to Stu.
"But you're also the only one I would have done that for," He murmured. "You figure out what that means."
Then he turned and walked out, leaving Stu alone, blinking after him.