Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mickey was just lying down on his couch in his dorm room, and nothing much was happening. He sharpened a knife using a sharpener. The only sound filling the silent room of his living room. He doesn’t do much, not many hobbies, if at all. Maybe, he should get into something to keep him busy.

Just a thought, though. Maybe he could make time… Cilents don’t come easy, but they pay well. Killing a person will cost. For the labor expenses, the materials such as vinegar, baking soda, salt, bleach, etc. It all adds up eventually.

Also, the looming threat of being caught and arrested, and being convicted of murder. Mickey makes hella good money, but his college eats the money up… He swears the college is charging him more than other students because he can produce the money easily.

Clients are sparse, so Mickey is living by scraps, semester by semester. He’s living like a broke college student when he doesn’t need to scrap by! Damnit, he knows how to manage money.

It’s a brand new semester, and Mickey finally landed on film. He’s taken a few other classes; maybe that's why he needed more money. He’s been in college since he was sixteen. 

He’s been through psychology, (to learn more about how humans think, which makes it easier to lure, break, and manipulate said victim), 

Doctor classes, (He could’ve just taken normal biology to learn what he wanted; more about the human body and the weak and vital points, that would’ve cost less, he guesses),

Law, surprisingly. (He needed to know how the law system worked if he ever actually went on trial. What legal loopholes there are, the basics of court, and most importantly, how to actually win a court case when guilty, it teaches you how to win as a lawyer even when your client is guilty),

All useful, very useful for Mickey to know. He’s a killer for a living. Gotta know everything.

He’s never finished a full course of those professions, obviously. Psychology is a minimum of two years at the minimum, Doctor? Eight years minimum, eleven counting the fact of needing a residency program, which can last up to fifteen years total! As the residency can take from three-to-seven years. Law? Three years. Law and Psychology can take even more time, depending on the degree.

Mickey would be around thirty-two… He’s nineteen, not even close. He’s done a semester here and there. But never a full term. Maybe that’ll change this year. 

Why doesn’t he just drop out? He needs something to fall back on. Being a hitman could be a part-time job while he has a main one; he can’t just rely on the one job. He’ll live more broke than he already is, once he gets older, maybe. Who’ll hire some old guy to successfully murder someone?

Mickey sat up: The semester would be starting soon, and August is coming up. Mickey loves the cold weather; it’s nicer in his opinion, and it’s better to hide bodies. In the lake, especially in winter. The bodies won’t surface until the warmer weather happens to come around, by then all traces of him would be washed away, if there ever was any evidence somehow on the victim.

Most of his victims are missing, unless the client wants the body to be found. If unspecified, the body gets hidden. Some bodies have been found, others will not.

Then, a ping from his computer, he stood up, pocketing his knife in its sheath and throwing the knife sharpener wherever. He didn’t care.

Sliding down in that hard wooden chair, he just took it from the kitchen table. He has the dorm all to himself after all, no need for two chairs at the table.

Mickey cursed his slow computer, wishing it could be much faster, but alas.

An email from someone, an address he didn’t recognize at all. But the subject line was the website that Mickey gets his clients from. It has a very generic name: psychoserialkillers.com. How it hasn’t been shut down is beyond Mickey; he’s glad it isn’t. It’s the only thing keeping him student loan and debt-free.

Mickey opened it with caution; he always does. Could be a client, could be the FBI, who knows, really? The email address was a full name: [email protected]. Nothing too unusual, but Mickey does recognize that last name. Who wouldn’t?

Question is for Mickey; how is she related to Billy Loomis? He’ll find out soon enough.

Mickey opened it, and it was pretty standard.

-

psychoserialkillers.com 

[email protected] 

Hello, I saw your ad on this website while looking for a good killer to help me. Your reviews are spectacular. And I was wondering if you could help me. You can name your own price.

-

Mickey was skeptical; not many clients had him choose the price, he could bargain, but not name it himself. Plus, what are the odds this is actually Nancy D. Looms? So low, in its Mickey’s special place in hell, if there is one. Or Mickey will forever be a wandering ghost, who knows.

Mickey decided to humor this email and wrote a reply back. Just a standard, I’ll take your case, and where do you wanna meet, typa email.

Mickey got a reply fast, as fast as this computer could run after all.

Nancy was just nearby. She wanted to meet today.

Mickey glanced at his clock, almost ten pm. On a Saturday. Classes are starting on Monday. But he needs this; what could he lose?

Mickey just threw on his boots on; he was still dressed from his earlier activities in the day. Mickey turned the lights off and he hit the streets. Walking down to the coffee shop, it would be closing soon, but it could handle two more customers for a bit.

Mickey walked in, scanning the area. It was empty, good. Mickey chose a booth farthest from the counter and sat down. This is a private conversation. No one else needed to listen in.

Mickey got lost in his tapping fingers on the edge of the table. He barely noticed the older woman who sat down across from him.

Nancy. She had a motherly aura… But it was laced with a darker edge. Mickey narrowed his eyes but let her speak.

Nancy slid an ID across the table, confirming her identity. Mickey nodded, signaling for Nancy to state why she sought Mickey out.

“I want revenge on that bitch, Sidney, who killed my precious boy, Billy,” Nancy said, starting off strong.

Mickey nodded along, strange how she was never mentioned before. He doesn’t dwell.

“She and that boy, Randy, are attending Windsor College, the same as you. You are attending a film, like Randy,” Nancy said, leaning in a little closer. Mickey doesn’t find how she knows that concerning, Windsor posts their classes out in the front, full names. “I want them dead, but I want a twist.”

Mickey perked up, now intrigued. First, he thought just the same old killing he’s been doing for a while now, but no, something new. He likes that.

“I want to do the same thing Billy and Stu did, don that costume that hid their identities,” Nancy then continued. “But, no. The bloodshed of one isn’t enough. We’ll kill in order, like my boy, Billy, did with Stu. We’ll find someone named Maureen, Steve, and Casey. If we’re lucky, you’ll kill a Tatum, too. But I can’t possibly do this alone. I have no interest in killing, but you obviously do.”

Mickey better get paid well for this.

“So, for this work of killing at least three to four people, that’ll cost you,” Mickey said, a grin forming on his face.

“Oh, I know, I’m willing to pay your college then some,” Nancy said, putting a small stack of bills on the table that she took out of her purse. “I’ll pay all years of film, the tuition, housing, food, and books. Anything,”

Mickey nodded, eyeing that money.

“Alright, you got yourself a deal,” Mickey said, taking and flipping through the money stack.

“One last thing,” Mickey looked Nancy straight in her eyes, as she continued. “Take it slow, befriend them, it’ll make the betrayal hurt so much worse.”

…

Mickey had been planning all Sunday and was feeling a bit sluggish as he sat down in his seat, two from Randy, who was sitting more diagonally from him. Mickey knew he’d have to make this slow, charming, friendly. No doubt Randy is feeling a tad distrustful after what happened with Billy and Stu.

Mickey does know Randy likes horror movies; he’s read Stab, the book based on the events, and god, was it wrong in a ton of aspects, but it got a few things right from Mickey’s research.

“Prom Night; Revisited?” Mickey said, remembering a line from the book.

Randy didn’t even really question who said it or if he knew who spoke before launching into a rant on how stupid the premise is and how dumb the teens were before he gained consciousness again.

The rambling was cute. (What is he thinking?)

Randy then looked back side side-eyeing Mickey hard.

“Mickey Altieri, you seem interesting and passionate about films, horror films, it seems specifically. I was hoping to get to know you, maybe become friends?” Sidney would be Mickey’s better shot, but he can’t exactly reach her now.

Semi-forcing Randy into including him in at least one hangout seems to be the easier and more efficient way. Randy kept staring before muttering:

“Yeah, maybe,”

Chapter Text

It had been a while since Nancy first contacted Mickey; now it’s October, not August anymore. The summer air turned into a biting chill as autumn rolled around.

Mickey’s pushing had worked, and he wormed his way into the friend group. Even though he and Randy had their spats occasionally, and both didn't necessarily like one another, Mickey’s grown to like him; a lot. He can now share his interests in grotesque and even some banned horror movies.

Randy will listen even if he’s a tad uncomfortable. He listens because Mickey listens to his rants. Transactional.

Mickey was pretending to take notes, and the teacher droned on about some movie they’re supposed to watch soon enough and analyze. Simple.

Stab was coming out in theaters for the first time tonight. Gale works quickly, the book didn't even come out that long, and now, it’s got a movie adaptation.

Such a generic name. Really. Gale couldn't have chosen a lazier name.

Nancy is a help, Mickey can do it all himself. But, he guesses Nancy wants to be included. Fine, he’ll humor her. If push comes to shove, he’ll just throw her under the bus. 

He’s planning on it at the end, does Nancy think he’s stupid? His ‘motive’ is not even his real one. A prop. A test to see. Nancy failed with a visible disappointment in her eyes.

Mickey then looked down at the names he had scribbled down. Maureen Evans and Phil Stevens. He’d burn the paper afterwards.

Mickey did his own research on the two, Nancy just got the names. A Couple. Going to the Stab movie tonight. A night where the Ghostface costumes would be everywhere.

Mickey does know why Sidney and Randy’s so upset. He means, wouldn’t you? If people dressed up and treated your attempted murder as a fake plot? Not good.

Gale doesn’t help, she wrote the story to tailor to her own narrative. Her own tastes. Sure, it’s based on a real story that she was involved in. But, really. There are fake minor plotlines that have no end, and characters are not reflected on how the actual people acted.

Mickey doesn't care, it doesn't involve him. Most of them are dead anyway.

Mickey jotted down whatever bits and pieces he could actually sort of pay attention to.

Mickey’s gaze naturally drew to Randy, who was actually listening to the lecture and taking the notes he was supposed to, and then some. Real invested.

Sidney and Randy are staying far away from the movie. Not wanting to relive what happened.

Mickey held a huff that stuck in his throat. When would class even be over? Feels like it's taken forever. Mickey can’t wait til’ dark.

He hates that costume though, yeah good for concealing an identity but really. They couldn't have chosen anything else?

The mask looks like you cannot see a damn thing and the robes seem excessive and hard to run or do anything in really. Mickey guesses he’ll find out soon enough. Those damn things are everywhere now.

Mickey was lost in thought on how to kill the couple later. 

They’ll be at the movie tonight, there’re gonna be quite a few people… But the Ghostface Costume wouldn’t be out of place nor would a knife. There’ll be a bunch of fake knives and pretend deaths.

Except Mickey isn’t playing around.

If he can get them separated… He can kill one and kill the second in front of everyone? Both does mean one can easily know it is not an act. But no one else would tell the difference. They’ll think it's an act.

Maybe even a part of the movie premiere. That should work. Mickey already mapped an escape route. The movie theater where it’s first being shown doesn't get much business. It doesn't have cameras; those are for the more wealthy businesses.

The building has a fire exit, but it’s not near the theater Mickey needs it to be. But he’ll make it if he runs.

Mickey, of course, has a backup plan. But he’s certain he won’t need it.

Finally, the bell rang and Mickey quickly packed up. Randy was a bit slower. Mickey accidentally slammed his hand on Randy’s desk… Randy was on edge pending what’s tonight. 

Randy jumped. “Watch it,” He grumbled, neatly organizing his school supplies.

“Sorry, sorry,” Mickey said, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah, whatever,” Randy said, huffing beneath his breath.

Their relationship could do much better. But eh, Mickey’s fine with how it is. He reminds himself, no feelings, no attachment. It won’t be much longer until it’s all done then he can forget about them.

Randy stood up, brushing past Mickey who did a slight dramatic stumble.

“Not funny,” Randy said, beneath his breath.

“What’s up your ass?” Mickey asked, catching up to Randy.

Randy didn't respond.

“Stab?” Mickey said, inquiring.

He noticed Randy’s jaw clench and how he gripped his bag that much tighter, his eyes narrowing in that way Mickey noticed when he was pissed off.

What? He needs to notice all the little things. It’ll help.

“Hey, you know it’ll be fine right?”

Randy huffed before stopping and sliding down the nearest wall. Rubbing at his eyes.

Mickey frowned, tilting his head to the side. Before joining Randy.

“Are you okay?” Mickey’s voice went a tad softer. Even if he felt no sympathy for Randy. He’ll make Randy think he feels bad.

“No! Gale is profiting off one of the most traumatic experiences of my life! Do you expect me to be okay!?” Randy took a deep breath. “It feels so wrong and how everything is treating it… Like a fucking joke.”

“It must feel horrible,” Mickey put his hand on Randy’s shoulder. Randy shoved it away.

“It does! Sidney and I chose this college because it’s good and far from Woodsboro to escape the past of what happened and…” Randy trailed off.

Mickey scooted closer, just a tad. “It’ll be okay-”

“Do you think what happened was a joke? A fake plot?”

Randy’s words caught Mickey off guard. He really didn't but then again watching Randy and Sidney go through emotions like this was amusing.

Mickey didn't want to lie but somehow didn't think he could be that mean to Randy. (What’s wrong with him? He shouldn't be feeling this way.) 

“I don’t think so, plus Gale’s basis… She cut out the part where she didn't know the gun safety was on and it made Billy seem so much stronger,”

Said too much.

God, why did he have to do that? Should’ve just done a simple ‘I don’t think what happened was a joke.’ And stuck. Not the damn additional information.

“You own Stab?” Randy’s eyes narrowed more, oh fuck… Stupid Mickey.

Why did he care so much?

“I don't own it, Derek does,” It’s not entirely a lie. Derek owns his own copy… He likes a good horror film or book once in a while.

Randy scooted away from Mickey.

“So, you do think it’s nothing more than a movie plot?”

“No! It’s real life, you and Sidney don’t deserve this,” Mickey, somehow kept his voice calm, steady.

Randy turned his back on Mickey.

“Sorry. Okay? I shouldn’t have brought it up. Such a sore subject… I should’ve known.” Taking accountability. It’ll help gain brownie points.

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Randy said, gruffly. “But you do sound sincere…”

Randy allowed Mickey’s hand on his shoulder.

“If you need someone, I’m here, always,”

Randy came and leaned against Mickey’s shoulder.

“Call me anytime, if tonight gets to be too much,” Mickey said, putting his arm around Randy’s shoulders.

…

God, how did Billy and Stu do this?

Mickey didn’t like the costume before, but now? He hates it. He wants it to burn.

He couldn't get the robes to sit right. The sleeves he thinks look like they could be bat wings, it was messing up his hair, and he could barely see out of the mask, let alone breathe without it sounding weird.

Everything looked mesh.

The gloves felt like wrapping paper and he told Randy to call him anytime, if he needed anything. He now sees how easily it could backfire on him. Wonderful.

He was just full of complaints. But he had good reasons.

Mickey did one last check that he had everything: A knife and a voice recorder. He didn't need much more. Really.

Mickey followed the couple at a safe distance. He can't believe Nancy refused to pay for his ticket. It’s much less than his college tuition but apparently (to him at least) Nancy wanted to be selfish.

Mickey watched from his seat by the door. He watched as Phil Stevens said something just out of earshot to Maureen Evens before standing up and going to the bathroom.

Mickey was quicker and ran and hid in one of the two stalls, just past two guys in the same costume. Ohh, was Mickey gonna hate himself for what he was gonna do.

The door to the bathroom opened, Mickey watched the shadows, and Phil waited for a second. Mickey gripped his knife tighter in his palm.

Mickey watched through the crack in the stall door to see Phil go into the stall next to the one he was in.

Mickey fumbled for the recorder for a second. His movements felt stiff. He pressed the play button, and soft noises, only audible to those close. He had recorded it from some film.

The thin material of the stall wall was almost appalling to Mickey, it made his job just that much easier.

He looked to see Phil’s shadow move, his ear now pressed against the wall in between. Mickey could tell right where Phil’s ear would be.

Gently taking the knife out so it wouldn’t clink against the metal of his belt. Mickey teased the wall before jamming the knife through.

The crack was something.

Phil was too stunned or the knife did some brain damage to scream. Mickey walked out of the stall. Staring down at the now struggling man. Eyes glossy, slowly losing their color.

Mickey’s phone rang. He had to ignore it.

Mickey stepped over Phil’s body like an inconvenience. Into the movie room he went.

Maureen was none the wiser, thinking Phil was trying to prank her. Her unimpressed expression didn't surpass Mickey.

“Really? This again,” Maureen sighed. Rolling her eyes.

Mickey didn't speak, just tilted his head, quicker and the knife plunged into Maureen’s navel. She jolted, blood pooling in her mouth. She stared wide-eyed at the masked figure beside her.

Mickey twisted the knife as she tried to stand, she did manage to but the knife just twisted more. She stared at the others.

Hoping, wishing for that help that wouldn’t come.

She would die in front of all these people and they’d think it’s an act.

Mickey stabbed her one last time before she collapsed. Mickey was already out the door before the first screams sounded out.

…

“I’m sorry,” Mickey said, quickly walking from the movie theater where police cars were starting to gather. “I… There’s no excuse,”

“You’re right, no excuse,” Randy’s voice came from Mickey’s flip phone.

Mickey had the costume and all the evidence in the duffel bag. He weaved through backstreets and alleyways. Avoiding the main street as much as possible.

“Meet me in my dorm and I’ll make it up to you,” Mickey said, sounding genuinely remorseful.

“So forward, I hope you know I’m still crushing on Sidney.” Randy said, “But I’ll be there.”

Mickey hated the reminder. Why did he have to bring his crush up? He should just get over it! Sidney is dating Derek. He needs to move on.

Why does he care so much?

He doesn't, he just doesn't like seeing Randy chasing Sidney like a lost puppy.

No other reason, surely. Mickey would know.

“Why are you suggesting there’s something more than just a friendly hangout, hm?” Mickey said, trying to turn this on Randy. To convince himself Randy’s the one having weird, confusing thoughts.

Mickey isn’t anything if he isn’t charming. Convincing.

“Please, anyone with half a brain can see your gay ass from a mile away. You chasing Hallie is pathetic.”

‘Says you, chasing Sidney. The way you do.’ Mickey held his tongue, opting to click it instead. Even as his jaw clenched.

“How would–actually, don’t respond… Just bring a good movie, and we can watch some,” Mickey said.

He usually would just make a snide remark and move on.

Why did that strike such a chord? Was it because of Randy? No, it was over the way Randy said that when he has no right to.

Nothing more. Mickey’s perfectly in control. He doesn't need feelings. Worthless. They’ll just get in the way. He’s getting paid to kill Sidney for fucks sake.

Mickey’s doing this to earn brownie points. Not to be a suspect. Nothing more.

“I’ll see you, bye-bye!” Mickey hung up before Randy could respond.

Mickey doesn’t think he could stand Randy’s voice. He wants to.

With how he was speaking. Did Randy really think he could read Mickey’s feelings? As if!

Randy was just a pawn. A pawn in Mickey’s game. A pawn to be lost.

Mickey doesn't wants Randy to fail. To fall.

Mickey took a deep breath tugging at his hair. As he walked up his dorm building’s stairs.

Mickey flung his main door open, it crashed against the wall with a loud sound. He slammed it shut, walking over to his kitchen sink.

Mickey didn't have much time. Randy would be here any minute.

Mickey put the costume in one side of the sink; the mask was spared as it was clean.

Mickey turned the water on. Cleaning the knife off, putting it in his knife holder.

The side with the costume was now getting filled with cold water. Back in the day, Mickey had once used hot water… That outfit had to be burned. The blood had stained it.

Mickey had the clothes soaked before adding; hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, vinegar, and some basic laundry detergent. Later he’d need to redo this but… Now, he needed a slight ‘quick fix’.

Mickey put his sink cover on over the soaking clothes and was done. He wiped all the recordings off the recorder and placed it in a drawer with the mask under a bunch of clothes.

It took a few minutes before there was a knock at the door. Mickey was messing with his TV.

“Come in! Doors unlocked,” Mickey said, and Randy walked in.

Randy set some of his favorite horror movies down on the coffee table and made himself comfy on Mickey’s tiny couch. 

Mickey has no roommate, he got a slightly smaller room than the others.

Never would he admit as to why. It’s a secret.

Mickey got the TV and VHS player working and made himself comfy beside Randy who couldn't scoot away. The couch is too small for that.

Mickey then had to get up to put a horror movie in. He chose the first one; Psycho.

They were silent. Wanting to listen and actually watch. 

Mickey tries paying attention more to the movie than to how close Randy was. This has never been an issue before. Why now?

Mickey hated whatever he felt.

Barely ten minutes into the movie and the screen changed. The news. Randy jumped forgetting big news had changed whatever was on automatically.

Mickey didn't expect the news so late but of course. No one other than Gale Weathers was on the scene. Of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be?

Mickey felt Randy go rigid, tensing up tighter than a screw could. As they listened to the details.

“No, no, no,” Randy just kept repeating. “Not again… No, please..”

Mickey felt something even more unfamiliar.

Mickey hugged Randy, petting his hair.

“It’s gonna be okay, I’ll protect you and Sidney, they won’t get through me,” If only Randy knew.

Randy stared into Mickey’s eyes looking for deception. When he found none he spoke.

“I’m gonna hold you up to that.”

Chapter Text

Mickey hummed, Randy was passed out on his couch. He gave him a blanket so Randy wouldn’t be cold. Mickey was in the process of neatly folding the ghostface robes to put in the bottom of his drawer.

He had to dry the robes with a hair dryer while Randy slept. It wasn't easy with a sleeping, slightly paranoid man who had just found out someone was recreating one of his worst traumas a few feet away.

Miraculously, Randy was out like a light and did not even stir.

Even as the light from Mickey’s curtains cast sun-risen shadows across the room.

Mickey feels a small pang, and he refuses to allow the time of day. Wanting, making it stay buried deep within. No need for the useless feeling.

Mickey looked over at his couch from his dresser drawer. Randy is still knocked out.

Mickey produced a key hidden under a missing carpet piece, unlocked a drawer when led to a lock box.

Security much? Yes, but inside are all the photos or missing posters of his victims. To keep track of all of them. The only evidence Mickey’s ever kept. So, keeping it under lock and key will ensure it stays hidden and unlinked.

It could be seen as trophies, Mickey doesn’t keep them for that purpose but to him it doesn't matter what people think of why he has them.

That is suspicious but not damning… But to keep track of who’s killed and who’s not. The dead ones have a circled X on their photo. Which is damning and could get Mickey in a fuck ton of trouble.

Mickey grabbed two pictures of Maureen Evans and Phil Stevens, both already had circles over the faces of the photos.

Mickey grabbed a red marker from inside the box and drew the X. Successful. The two are dead.

He carelessly put the photos back inside, before picking up Casey ‘Cici’ Cooper’s photo. With a flick of his wrist, Mickey drew the circle before placing the marker and photo back inside and closing the top.

Cici’s fate is sealed. She is next but her death isn’t supposed to happen til’ a bit more later. Mickey hid the box and wondered if Nancy would get mad if he killed somebody early.

Questions. Questions. That won’t be answered.

Mickey stared for a second, allowing himself to get lost in his thoughts before he stood up, dusting his pants off, and went to make some coffee.

Mickey had been in the process of pouring himself the steaming hot coffee in a mug when a soft groan sounding muffled.

“Good morning,” Mickey said, calling out as Randy’s head peered from the back of the couch.

“Morning,” Randy grumbled, stretching and yawning before sitting upright.

Mickey smiled sweetly before taking a drink of his coffee.

“Want some of this? I made a whole pot,” Mickey said, offering.

“I don’t drink coffee.” Randy murmured, voice barely audible.

Although; Randy slowly stood up, he sluggishly walked up beside Mickey who kept drinking his black coffee. Randy grabbed a cup that was on the countertop, pouring himself some coffee.

Randy went into Mickey's fridge and Mickey let him, he poured just a small enough amount of milk to make it a softer caramel color. He blew on the hot liquid before taking his own sip.

Mickey raised an eyebrow but kept his biting remark to himself. Being snarky is the last thing Randy needs.

Mickey saw the memories of last night come back to Randy in the subtle form of a slight tremble in Randy’s hand as he held the mug in both of his palms.

“You okay?” Mickey asked. Why did he care so much? 

“Yeah, I’m fine, man,” Randy said, trying to brush Mickey off.

Mickey’s face had quickly turned for a split second, Mickey opened his mouth but before he could speak, Randy suddenly slammed his mug down and Mickey caught Randy before his legs gave out.

“Whoa, Randy-“ Mickey couldn’t even finish before Randy cut him off.

“Why is this happening again? Why? Can’t this be happening, why can't this be left in the past? A one horrible time that should be forgotten.” Randy rambled, he clung to Mickey.

Randy’s fingers twisted into Mickey’s shirt sleeves, his face buried into Mickey’s chest. Mickey could feel a strange dampness starting to spread. Was… Was Randy crying?

Mickey felt a pang of… Of what? Dare it be sympathy? Empathy? Surely, not. He shouldn't feel anything other than cold indifference. But he doesn't.

Against his free will; Mickey found himself lifting his arms to come and hug Randy, holding him tightly, rubbing circles in his back to help calm and steady him. Randy was now trembling.

Mickey subtly made Randy’s head rest beneath his chin, Mickey slightly buried himself into Randy’s hair, taking his willpower to keep a smirk from forming at his lips.

Slowly, but surely, Randy’s breathing slowed from ragged to a much calmer state. With the occasional hiccup sob, or a small gush of tears.

This was really tearing Randy up to his core. Just thought.

Randy’s grip suddenly tightened and Mickey gritted his teeth to stop from wincing as Randy’s nail dug into his arm. No doubt it would leave bruising.

Mickey stopped gritting his teeth and took a calm breath, he wasn’t gonna lash out. He couldn't afford it. He’d never lash out at him.

Mickey held Randy just a bit tighter, trying to give an illusion of trying to squeeze all of Randy’s negative feelings out. Comfort.

Randy’s hiccups stopped along with his tears and he pulled back and Mickey loosened his grip. Keeping his arms locked around Randy’s torso, trying not to invade Randy’s waist. No business touching there.

“Feel better, geek?” Mickey said, with a small snicker.

“Ugh, don’t you start!” Randy hissed, playfully punching Mickey’s chest, in a way for him to shut up and let Randy go.

Mickey could see a small smile play at Randy’s tear-streaked cheeks. Cute. No. Friendly.

Mickey couldn't help but giggle at Randy’s fruitless attempt at trying to get away. When had he last giggled? Why does Randy do this to him? 

Mickey’s giggles stopped as soon as they had appeared, a faint blush covering his cheeks, he looked at something across the room.

“Aw? Cat got your tongue?” Randy taunted, able to get away now.

Randy brushed off his shirt and stared at the clock, he needed to get to class. Both of them did.

“We’re almost-gonna-agh! Late!” Randy said, pointing at Mickey’s clock.

Mickey chuckled as he watched Randy scramble outside his dorm room door. He rolled his eyes; a smirk playing on his lips.

He was in no rush.

“See you in class too, Randy,”

…

Mickey was absent-minded, chewing on the end of a pencil, not paying that much attention, his gaze flickered over Randy who was listening intently to the lecture and sometimes taking notes.

Mickey’s chewing stopped, as he stared. His eyelids lowered in the slightest as he studied more than he had in the past few days.

Mickey studied how Randy’s messily brushed hair fell brushed in some places as others looked as if they hadn’t been brushed at all, the way his nose crinkled as he focused, his eyes blazing with the same focus.

What was Mickey even thinking? He needs to stop.

“That is so moral majority, you can’t blame real-life violence on entertainment,” The statement forcefully dragged Mickey out of his staring, he looked the opposite way from Randy.

Cici Cooper had said it.

Great, useless discussion about what happened at the damn movie theater. It’ll really be the talk for a while, huh? Well, it is to be expected. The Woodsboro massacre was a big deal and someone is now trying to replicate it?

Mickey wonders if this goes south could he be linked to the missing people that he killed?

The two men in front of Cici started to debate and argue with her point. They talked over each other and Mickey couldn't be bothered to care about their opinion or Cici’s for that matter.

“No, it’s not,” Cici defended. “Movies are not responsible for our actions.”

Mickey thought the use of the word; ‘our actions’ was an interesting choice for Cici to use.

He grinned, could he use that against her in the following days? Perhaps.

“It’s a classic case of life imitating art, imitating life,” Mickey said, waving his pencil slightly before putting it down.

“This is not a hypothetical, it’s not about art,” A girl piped up to Cici’s defense. “I had biology with that girl! This is reality.”

So, she knew Maureen Evans, how interesting. Add that to one of his mental notes.

“Thank you, I agree with you,” Mickey hated the sound of Randy agreeing with someone else. How dare he agree with someone else? Mickey couldn't help but care. “Let me tell you about reality, Mickey.”

Mickey turned his head to look. God, Randy had a subtle glare as he pointed. It made his heart ache. Made him feel… Something he wouldn’t ever mention. Ever admit to.

“I lived through this, okay?” Really? As if that isn’t the most fucking obvious thing in this room. “Life is life, doesn't imitate anything.”

“Come on, Randy,” Mickey said, in a buttery tone with a slight undertone that if a sudden small shift in Randy’s eyes… No, wishful thinking. Randy loves Sidney, no room… No room for a shift, he’s hopelessly in love with her. Who is Mickey to stand a chance against a years-long time crush?

“Will all due respect,” Only truthful thing Mickey had admitted so far. “The killer obviously patterned himself after two serial killers who have been immortalized on film.”

A quick agreement from a classmate and Mickey and Randy kept their gaze on each other. Mickey knew better than anyone, he obviously knew the killer was patterning himself after the two original ones because he is the killer.

He’s getting paid for this so what he can do is not deviate from the script he is following.

And everyone is an unknowing actor.

Except this is real life, no fake blood bags or limbs or gore.

Maybe, Mickey could go back to recording and selling the murders like he used to, to make a quick buck. There is a surprising number of people who’d pay quite a bit to watch real gore, it is astounding to Mickey. 

He obviously goes by a fake name and address. He’s gotten a few innocent people swatted but that is not his problem when the police raid the wrong houses without looking.

Mickey knows how to cover his steps.

“Are you suggesting someone is trying to make a real-life sequel?” The teacher said, shifting on his desk.

“Stab 2?” Randy’s voice had rang out. “Who would want to do that? Sequels suck.”

Mickey sometimes liked actual sequels, if they're done well. He obviously thinks there are bad sequels but believes a lot of sequels are good.

Randy’s statement got the class in a slight uproar. Mickey didn't understand how his statement of a literal killer recreating the original murders got a far less reaction than Randy saying sequels suck.

It did confuse Mickey. Quite a bit.

“Oh please, please, by definition alone, they’re inferior films!” Randy said, almost exaggerated.

“Bullshit generational, many sequels have surpassed their original,” Mickey said, slightly batting his eyelashes as Randy before becoming aware of other eyes, namely Cici’s on him.

“Oh yeah?” Randy said with a head movement, followed by Cici’s: “Name one.”

Mickey almost couldn't name one. What is it with this bitch finishing Randy’s sentence? Really now, Randy can speak.

Mickey zones out for the rest of the class as the classmate who had agreed with him took the lead on naming a sequel and giving an explanation.

He stared at Randy and sometimes, Randy would occasionally give Mickey a spare glance.

Did he just fuck up his chance?

Mickey when he wasn’t staring glared daggers at Cici. Nancy wouldn’t mind if something happened a bit early, wouldn’t she? 

…

Mickey didn't get to catch up with Randy he instead watched from the main doorway as Randy met up and spoke to Sidney, Derek soon accompanying them and he smoothly slid his arm around Sidney.

Mickey felt a pang of jealousy, as Randy rolled his eyes at the public display, Mickey could tell he was still hung up on Sidney but seemed…

Mickey doesn't know, detached? Like his feelings were pulling away? No, that can’t be right. The trauma bonding surely would’ve helped and made his crush stronger, right?

Mickey watched as Randy walked away, a certain tension in every step, Derek kissed Sidney’s forehead before disappearing.

If only.

Mickey trudged his way to his dorm room. 

God, how can he be so smart yet so fucking stupid?

…

There was a party tonight and if Mickey’s assumptions were correct, he could kill Cici and make it to the party in record time.

Mickey walked outside, cutting the phone lines to security, so, no chance of help. Mickey donned the Ghostface costume and rang Cici’s phone.

Cici did all the things Mickey expected. Think he was Ted, etc, etc. Mickey can’t be bothered with remembering all the details.

Cici isn’t that smart if she got spooked by her own sorority sister. She even spooked that girl out before she left.

“Hello, Ted,”

How Ted sounds like the voice changer Mickey speaks through is beyond him.

“You wish it were, Ted. Don’t forget to set the alarm.”

Mickey was promptly hung up on. He scoffed, rolling his eyes, as if that would stop him. As if the phone was the only thing keeping him from invading.

Damn Nancy, making Mickey do all the work.

He isn’t a vampire or some supernatural entity. He can do whatever he damn well pleases.

Mickey peered around the house for a way to get in, an open window. For a girl who seems scared, she really didn't check her home very well. 

Mickey climbed on in and noticed a landline, very common and he hid in a closet just behind it. Taking the burner phone out he called the land line.

As soon as Cici picked up saying; “Hello?”

Mickey jumped, Cici to her credit kept the phone locked in her hand even as she screamed.

Cici ducked, narrowly missing Mickey’s knife. The knife stabbed into the wall, Cici quickly got up and she bolted up the nearby stairs, Mickey, chasing after her, had shattered a glass side table.

Mickey had to give Cici some credit, at least she had some survival skills after she chucked a plant at him.

Cici kept running with Mickey hot on her trail. After Cici couldn't open a door, she ran to the open one behind her. Running up even more stairs and trying to throw a bicycle down the stairs.

Mickey caught it and tossed it aside the narrow space. He was more confused on a bicycle being in the house more than anything.

Cici managed to get to a room with a glass window and balcony, she paused; her mistake that cost her.

Mickey threw Cici threw the glass door, shattering it into pieces that Cici fell into.

Cici tried to get up but every attempt was met with shattered glass in her palms. Mickey did a quick step through the broken door to Cici.

Who struggled and was finally starting to stand up before the knife was raised a few times stabbing into her back as Cici screamed and sobbed to stop.

Mickey was ‘gracious’ in helping Cici up, as if she weighed nothing. She thrashed and tried twisting out of Mickey’s grip but Mickey held firm, ignoring Cici’s cries.

Mickey threw Cici off the balcony and watched as her leg and arms and neck was bent at an unnatural angle. Mickey cleaned the knife off and left the scene.

Leaving Cici with a flicker of life still in her eyes.

Mickey knew it’d be gone and dulled by the time anyone found her.

Mickey quickly changed at his parked car, fixing his hair and making himself look presentable. Cici’s death reminded him of his first victim.

They say the first kill is always the most memorable.

Mickey thinks his is even more because he never meant to push her off that bridge. He just wanted her purse for food, rent. He was freshly emancipated and was doing odd jobs and stealing.

She should’ve just given the purse up and she would be well and alive.

But then again, Mickey wouldn’t be killing for money now, would he?

Mickey quickly drove to the party and made it just in time. Hallie was waiting on the porch and waved to Mickey. 

Mickey smiled and waved back.

Although, Hallie was nice… Randy was really the one Mickey was looking forward to seeing.

Chapter Text

Don’t get Mickey wrong; he thinks Hallie is a nice girl. She’s sweet, she’s pretty, she’s smart; she’s studying psychology.

But Hallie really isn’t his type, gender-wise. Mickey knows he is wrong for leading Hallie on, but with how she acts, there’s a 50/50 chance she actually likes him. Mixed Signals.

Mickey couldn’t care less if she liked him. She’s going later; the script is written. It’s just not her time yet.

Mickey then got out of his car, flashing a sweet smile to Hallie, as he walked up to her on the porch. 

“Hallie! Hello, why aren’t you enjoying the party?” Mickey asked, stealthily putting his arm over Hallie’s shoulders.

“Oh, Mickey, I didn't think you’d come, you’re just in time,” Hallie said, shrugging Mickey’s arm off and walking inside; Mickey followed her inside.

The party was as obnoxious as Mickey thought it’d be. He isn’t much of a party guy unless he’s forced. If he didn't come and now that Cici’s dead… Hallie is a good alibi, that's what Mickey needs her for.

Mickey started around, the inside was an epileptic’s worst nightmare, the damn flashing lights were giving even him a headache. It was loud with people doing shots and screaming and whatnot.

Mickey was heavily reminded of why he doesn't go to crazy sorority parties.

Mickey skipped out on drinks, waiting for Hallie to get hers, the last thing he needs is getting drunk. He woke up in a random man’s bed last time. He cannot afford mistakes, especially those ones.

And especially with his confusing feelings for Randy, he doesn't want to make a fool of himself.

Mickey stared blankly outside a window Randy was there holding a glass cup and mingling with some of their shared classmates.

Mickey stared, he has committed Randy’s features to detail before, nothing new but… Mickey doesn't know, he has a stronger feeling towards the guy.

Stupid feelings. Always getting in the way. They’ve never done him any good.

He still cannot help but stare. Mainly at Randy’s lips and maybe his eyes drifted to the curve of Randy’s neck to his collarbone; such a delicate bone. Made to be broken to protect your spine or any vital parts of your body.

The skin there is easy to bruise. Not from direct impact. Something more. Usually anyway, sometimes it requires a bit more force.

Mickey wonders if Randy would taste like the alcohol he is drinking. Or if he’d bruise a little easily or if his skin is tougher than it looks.

Mickey wonders how Randy’s lips would feel on his own skin.

Then Hallie brushed against him. Snapping Mickey out of his love-crazed haze.

It was a small signal to follow her and Mickey ‘gladly’ did.

“Hey, babe, wanna dance?” Mickey hated how the words felt in his mouth speaking to Hallie but he needed to keep this up. Convincingly, half-assing leads to suspicion.

Mickey looked down with charming eyes at Hallie who flashed a smile. Her grip changed on her cup.

“Oh, I’d love to. Yeah, with that tall, wide-shoulder fraternity boy,” Hallie said, pointing at a random fraternity boy. “Do you think you could set that up?”

Hallie giggled as Mickey said; “Owch,”

Best-case scenario for Mickey though. He was glad that he didn't have to dance with Hallie. But he did act bummed out.

Then Randy started to walk past after Hallie had walked away after one of her sorority sisters called for her. 

Mickey felt as if the party was stuffy. It was one of the bigger beginning-of-the-year parties.

“Empire strikes back. Better story, improved effects.” Mickey said, pointing at Randy who slowed and turned to face Mickey.

Randy pointed back at Mickey. “Not a sequel. Part of a trilogy. Completely planned.”

“I like those little furry things,” Hallie chimed in.

“The Ewoks! They blow.” Mickey’s pointing hand turned into a small fist.

Mickey clenched his teeth, in a subtle manner.

Randy went on to talk to; what Mickey thinks is a couple. They’re holding hands and not many non-couples do that at parties. Hallie went back to her sorority sisters.

Mickey’s having so much fun.

He didn't want to drink for many reasons, one being that he’s gotta get back to his dorm somehow.

Mickey went inside, grabbed a beer, and sat on a porch step in front of the house.

Mickey popped the top open and chugged some, shrugging off the way it burned going down his throat. He’ll figure out how to get home somehow. Not a big deal if he doesn't.

It wasn't long before Mickey drank the whole thing.

He was barely tipsy, having a higher alcohol tolerance. 

His phone rang.

Mickey picked it up.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Nancy. Nancy practically almost yelled down Mickey’s flip phone.

“Jesus fucking christ, of course I am,” Mickey said, rubbing at his eyes.

Nancy yelling at him is the last thing he needs.

“Cici Cooper is dead!” Nancy’s voice was laced with a ‘motherly’ scolding.

“Oh really? Wow, I didn't know! Who could’ve killed her?” Mickey’s was dripping in sarcasm.

“It’s not her time!”

“The script got lost. It’s fixed now, no need to rewrite it all over a minor mishap.”

“I gave you a job and–and you do this? I thought you were professional.”

“And I thought you were a mother to your son, but apparently that never happened.”

Mickey heard a growl before the line went dead. He rolled his eyes, pocketing his phone. Nancy was acting as if this one-out-of-line thing would cause everything to fall like a house of cards.

Mickey sighed, tugging at his hair.

The door opened behind him and Mickey didn't look back. He didn't want to know who it was.

He just hoped they didn't hear what he said on the phone.

The person sat beside Mickey, and Mickey caught a glimpse of the person’s shoes.

Randy.

“What are you doing out here alone? Why not with Hallie?” Randy asked. Mickey didn't even look up.

“She’s with her sorority sisters,” Mickey tried to keep the venom out of his voice as he tried to drink from his empty beer bottle.

Mickey was on his final thread of the night.

He glanced up at Randy.

“I disagree with some of your views and… Choices and we obviously bicker but I still care about you,” Randy said, getting close to where their knees were touching.

“You're drunk.”

“Just because it’s in a wine glass doesn't mean it’s alcoholic.”

“This is a party.”

“So?”

Mickey didn't have a comeback to that.

“What’s wrong?”

Mickey didn't know how to answer. What could he even say? ‘Oh! I have romantic thoughts

about you that I try to keep hidden!’ Hell no.

Randy put his hand on Mickey’s shoulder, and they sat in silence, save for the still raging party tonight.

Then Mickey did something bold.

He looked into Randy’s eyes before tucking his head on the side of Randy’s collarbone.

Mickey could feel how Randy shivered and tensed up and grew hot, no doubt feeling Mickey’s breath against his neck. Mickey held his position.

Randy stared up at the moon high in the sky, trying to ignore the more intimate nature now brewing.

They stayed like that for however long. Randy untensed eventually, just staring down at Mickey.

Mickey liked it, even if it was uncomfortable for his stature, it was nice. Peaceful.

Then Mickey opened his mouth to say something and Randy thought Mickey was about to do something else.

Randy tensed up again and pushed Mickey back. Mickey had a soft thud where his elbows hit the floor. He grunted.

“Sorry. I just thought-” Randy tried speaking.

Was he flustered? If anything Mickey thought Randy would be pissed off, not shy and flustered, like how he sometimes acts around… Sidney.

No, Mickey is just imagining things.

“I wouldn’t do something to you that I wouldn’t let you do to me,” Mickey said. That fried Randy’s brain.

“Or without your permission,” Mickey quickly added.

He felt a small flush creep onto his cheeks. Goddamnit, why?

He made Randy short-circuit. Mickey chuckled at Randy’s frozen shocked face.

Randy then came to his senses and wouldn’t look Mickey in the eyes. Mickey ruffled Randy’s hair before standing up.

When Randy saw Mickey open his driver’s side up he quickly walked over.

“Not a chance in hell, I’m letting you drive drunk,” Randy said, taking the keys. “Passenger side.”

“I’m barely tipsy-” 

“I don’t give a fuck. Passenger side. Now.”

Mickey, begrudgingly, went and sat in the passenger seat of his own car while Randy got in the driver's side and started the car.

“You’re a grown man not a child, stop pouting,” Randy said, but Mickey ignored Randy and kept on.

“Who are you, my-my parent?” Mickey couldn't bring himself to say mom or dad.

He’s never had a good relationship with them because of his older sister but that’s all besides the point.

Randy just rolled his eyes, driving down to Mickey’s dorm.

Randy has been staying there lately. Because his roommate; Paul, is apparently a trash roommate and Randy doesn't need that added stress.

Just a few nights ago, Randy was talking about a tape he did in case the Ghostface Killers came back for a third time. Mickey felt a pang stab his heart. Of course, it was for if Randy died…

Mickey is gonna make sure that never happens.

…

Mickey grumbled, walking through the park. Trying to find where Randy is with Gale and Dewey.

Mickey had tried calling Randy but apparently Randy couldn't be bothered to call or answer him back! Really, and Randy said he carried for Mickey.

Mickey needs to calm down. He’s sure Randy has a good reason. He'd better have a good reason.

Mickey walked past and saw Dewey and Gale interrogating a poor guy on a phone. They looked panicked. Mickey didn't know why.

They looked like they just got a call from Ghostface and was running looking for anyone on a phone.

Why, though?

Mickey sure as hell isn’t on call, he kills not calls. That’s Nancy’s job as she didn't want to get her own hands dirty.

It’s not like Nancy called without telling Mickey, right? It’s not time, for the last phase of the plan just yet.

Why isn’t Randy with Gale and Dewey, Gale’s camera man was somewhere else.

Mickey glared at them. He isn’t here for those old people away.

He’s here for Randy.

Mickey walked, not paying attention to anything other than the grass crunch beneath his boots and the occasional chirp of a bird. Mickey looked around.

Then he reached the end gate.

Did Randy lie to him? Did he lie and go to some random chick? Dare he say Sidney?

Not Sidney, Sidney is faithful. She wouldn’t do that to Derek. So, some random chick.

Which just pissed Mickey off even more.

Mickey then walked up to the camera van, and he felt something crack under his boot.

Gale’s phone.

Why wasn’t it on her? Then Mickey looked up at the van. It shook and rattled, any other person probably would’ve thought someone was getting it on but Mickey saw that flash of black robe.

Without a second thought, he tried the door: Locked. Damnit.

Mickey went to the passenger side window beating at the edges; the weakest points. The middle is the strongest.

Mickey felt pain in his knuckles but it was overrun by the need to see what the fuck was happening.

Why did these damn windows have to be so tough? 

Finally, after Mickey’s knuckles cracked and bled, the window cracked. The van stopped moving but Mickey didn't.

He kept on making a bigger and bigger crack until the window finally shattered. Then the sound of a van door opening and Mickey looked and came face to face with the cursed mask.

He scowled. Nancy had enough sense to know even with the knife, she wouldn’t win and she then ran out. Not before Mickey snagged a part of the robe.

Nancy fell on her wrist which made a horrible crack but she still ran from the scene.

Mickey looked inside and his heart stopped for the first time.

Randy could definitely be doing better.

He was conscious. Mickey acted fast getting into the van, and he cradled Randy to his chest like a precious treasure.

Mickey tore a large portion of his shirt off, the sound of fabric ripping filled the van, over Randy’s ragged breaths.

Mickey’s hands shook like never before as he used bits of his shirt to stop the bleeding in horrible places.

Mickey put Randy beneath his chin, as he reached out to grab Gale’s broken phone and called a number he never thought he would ever call.

911.

Mickey just said the address and what happened. He held Randy tightly. Murmuring sweet words about how Randy can make it. He’s strong, he can survive.

Mickey tried not to pay attention to the deep gashes that spread across Randy’s stomach and chest. The gashes bled and soaked through Randy’s clothes.

Effectively staining the clothes, but they were also ruined by the knife marks.

Mickey almost actually hissed at Gale and Dewey and Gale’s cameraman when they got too close. If looks could kill all three would be in pieces.

Mickey held Randy close until the first responders pried Randy from Mickey’s arms.

They were getting Randy stable and on the way to the hospital. Mickey begrudgingly gave the police a statement and Mickey was covered in blood, his shirt; now tattered and in ruins.

Mickey couldn't care less he just up and left, on his way to the hospital.

…

Mickey got stared at but that was the least of his worries as he stared at his boots, scraping against the sidewalk.

He should’ve been more watchful. Then again, how was he supposed to know Nancy would go rogue?

He should’ve been prepared… He’s smarter than this. He feels so stupid.

Randy wasn’t a part of the script. He was never meant to be put in harm's way unless a small gash from protecting someone. Sure.

But not like what happened.

Mickey pulled at his hair with a strangled groan.

He doesn't even think he wants Nancy’s money anymore.

He’s never turned down money, he’s always done what needed to be done to pay the bills.

But… Randy fucking Meeks, is making Mickey question with these damn feelings Mickey still doesn't even want to acknowledge.

Why can’t they go away? Or switch like emotions but no. They gotta stick with you. Always.

Mickey doesn't know what he’ll do to Nancy if Randy dies. And he’s sure Nancy is praying for herself. Over this now.

Mickey finally looked up once the brightly lit hospital came into view.

He was gonna have to wait a while.

Chapter Text

Mickey sat in that cursed waiting room for what felt like hours. Just wondering mostly, how many stab wounds does Randy have? Will he make it? Will Mickey even be let back because he’s not next of kin or family?

If he doesn't Nancy won’t have a good time. He’ll make sure of it.

The hospital was silent, except for the soft buzzing of the blinding lights overhead. The hard cushion of the chair, he sat in. Plastic would be more comfortable.

Mickey sighed, staring out the big window at the clouds. His phone buzzed and chimed in his pocket, but he ignored it. Nancy didn’t deserve a call back until Randy was confirmed alive or dead.

This deafening silence gave Mickey time to think and reflect on his feelings.

Randy didn't need to have such an effect on him! Mickey has repeated the same things over and over, trying to convince himself that it was just friendly feelings. Strong, sure, but nothing more. Just things he needed to know to make these feelings burn out like a fuse.

But when a fuse blows it gets replaced with a stronger one.

Feelings have never stopped Mickey before, he’s always been able to rid himself of them… So, what makes Randy so special?

Ever since Mickey wormed his way into the friend group, Randy has been his main focus; Along with Sidney but Sidney is the main target, not some side, optional target who just happened to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, to the wrong person.

Mickey has never had feelings towards a target, but he never had to come in close contact with a target like this either.

What makes this even more difficult is that Mickey knows he broke Nancy’s wrist, her right wrist. Her dominant hand, the reason why Randy’s attempted murder is so messy, she was using her left hand. Instead of her right one.

Mickey has been a total mess since these feelings started. Sure, he used to be acquainted with some of the people he has killed; men and women alike, and has developed some… Feelings on some old male targets but never this strong.

Mickey broke his gaze from the window to close his eyes and rub his temples.

Mickey wants Randy to be okay, desperately. He is faster coming to terms with the fact that he has a major crush on Randy like he never has before. And dare he even be a little scared of losing the only person he’s had this connection with?

For once; Mickey isn’t rejecting the idea and not trying to convince himself overwise. He is in love and it’ll stay that way for how long? Mickey doesn't know, crushes can last years, if you’re unlucky.

Night was starting to fall, Mickey didn't know how long he had been sitting there for but time was the least of his worries. He’d wait. He’s patient.

Mickey huffed softly staring now at the twinkling stars. His eyelids felt heavy. He rested his head on one hand, yawning once before he let sleep overcome him.

…

Mickey was shaken awake by a nurse, Mickey gasped, it was still dark out. Mickey rubbed the sleep from his eyes before lifting his gaze to the nurse.

“Sorry to wake you, Sir,” She said, she had kind eyes that Mickey’s own pierced through. “Are you Mickey Altieri?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Mickey said, his voice gruff with sleepiness.

“Randy Meeks has come out of surgery and wants to see you,” The nurse said, holding a hand out. “Let me take you back there.”

Mickey didn't take her hand but he did follow her into the back.

All of Mickey’s senses were heightened and he could smell the antiseptic and latex from gloves.

He was led to Randy’s room committing the room number to memory. Randy lay stiff but awake, slightly high on pain meds, and wrapped up in bandages, and an oxygen mask.

Despite looking halfway dead, Randy’s eyes lit up when he saw Mickey walk in.

Mickey went and sat by Randy’s bedside in a chair. He gently held Randy’s non-injured hand, as to not hurt him even more than he already is.

Nancy lives to see another day.

Mickey thought he saw a flash of something in Randy’s eyes but chalked it up to wishful thinking.

Randy was still pining for Sidney after all… Or was he?

“I’m so glad you’re okay…” Mickey murmured, leaning down so Randy could hear it. “I called as soon as I could.”

Randy slowly lifted his hand to trace where Mickey had ripped his shirt up to stop the worst of the bleeding.

Randy knew it was one of Mickey’s favorites, he wears it a lot. 

“I can buy a new one, you are more important,” Mickey said, softly. Fixing Randy’s messy hair. “I promised to protect you, and I did and I will keep doing it.”

A small pink blush coated Randy’s cheeks at that, and small tears welled in his eyes that Mickey tenderly wiped away when they fell.

Mickey could tell Randy was grateful and he wouldn’t ask for anything more.

The two stayed in a quiet embrace until Randy fell into a very muchly needed sleep.

“Sleep well, my dear, you need it. You’re the most important thing here.” Mickey murmured, nuzzling into Randy’s hair. Before sighing softly.

Mickey took this phone out. Time for the inevitable… And he finally answered Nancy’s calls.

…

Mickey had to leave Randy’s side, he didn't want to but it’s better than Nancy yelling over the phone.

“You broke my wrist while I was killing a target! I pay you to do your damn job and you saved one!” Nancy ranted on pacing back and forth in her hotel room.

Mickey was bored and already over this. He has better things to do. Rather than listen to Nancy’s screaming.

“So?” Mickey grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “You are only associating with Gale Weathers, she didn't see you as Ghostface nor did she see you break your wrist, you’re old make an excuse up of falling down the

stairs or something.”

Nancy opened her mouth to continue but Mickey cut her off sharply.

“You aren’t even supposed to be killing. It would ruin everything you ever worked for! As you called it, too fragile of an old lady. So; why did you go after Randy?”

“He spoke poorly of my Billy!”

“You weren’t even supposed to call without telling me,”

Nancy stuttered and spluttered. “I’m paying you! It doesn’t matter if I tell you or not!”

“It does,” Mickey leaned forward slightly. “Come on, Mrs Loomis. You can’t get away with this alone

and you know it.”

Nancy glared but Mickey spoke first; “Fake names don’t matter if people know your face. That’s why you went to Gale and not Sidney… Isn’t it? Sidney knows your face.”

“She’d know something is up, but she’d only suspect you. You know she wouldn’t suspect me. The one she goes to when she can get comfort and reassurance elsewhere.” Mickey said, continuing before he stopped with a smirk.

“How dare you!” Nancy snapped, panting angrily like a rabid dog. “I should-”

“Careful now!” Mickey said; rather loudly, before lowering his voice. “The hotel staff thinks you are… A little.. You know, having a college boy come to a hotel room… They talk, whisper.”

“Are you saying-” Nancy spoke, almost offended.

“Hey,” Mickey put his hands up. “I’m just relaying what I’ve been hearing,”

“Get out! Proceed as normal as we planned but I don’t want contact with you! Understood?” Nancy snapped, turning her back.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Understood.”

He walked out, he wasn’t gonna give Nancy the time of day. Just like she wanted.

What he needed was to get back to Randy. He promised again to protect him. And Mickey is a man of his word.

…

Sidney was in the room when Mickey walked in: Randy was still peacefully asleep even if he looked absolutely horrible.

Sidney had tears in her eyes that threatened to spill. Randy was the last thing she had from her old friend group, from Woodsboro. Even if she didn't reciprocate his feelings… She still cared for him as a friend.

And he almost died without her knowledge. Without a way she could save him.

Mickey silently sat next to Sidney, and he put his arm around her. Gently guiding her head to his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, he’s gonna be okay, Sid… Don’t worry, he’s gonna live,” Mickey whispered, trying to help calm Sidney’s, no doubt, racing mind.

She leaned against him, her tears falling freely down.

“He-He almost-” Sidney choked out, failing to wipe her tears away.

“Shhh, don’t think like that. He’s alive isn’t he? Just focus on that, even if the bad thoughts threaten to creep in and take over, replace them with how you and Randy will hang out after he’s better…” Mickey said, softly with encouragement, patting Sidney’s back.

Mickey snaked a hand to hold Randy’s hand…

He knows how much Randy means to Sidney and vice versa. Randy wouldn’t recover easily…

The clock is ticking. Soon it will be Sidney’s time.

The question is…

Can Mickey go through with it?

Chapter Text

Mickey was preparing himself. He took a deep breath, tonight was the night. Final act of the plan. Mickey walked out of the hospital after saying goodbye to Randy.

The plan was simple: Get Derek from the party, hang him up on the same stage Sidney performs on for her acting classes.

Randy was safe, cared for in the hospital. Untouchable, unharmable.

Best case scenario; Mickey did it but was harmed. Worst case; he’s dead. One or the other will happen.

All Mickey had to do was make Sidney go into the theater, make Derek seem like his partner while Sidney’s nerves were in shreds, and kill him; then stall Sidney until Nancy arrives.

Simple. Easy.

Hallie could be a bonus kill if it came down to it. If Mickey felt particularly murderous in the heat of the moment.

Mickey relayed what he should know of what’s happening now; Nancy’s with Gale, doing whatever she is. Maybe, she has Gale at gunpoint already, although it’s way too early for that. Sidney’s not in the police car yet.

Mickey messed with his tousled hair, running his fingers through it; trying to make it presentable even though it would most likely just get messed up again.

Mickey walked, frosted grass crunching beneath his boots. Until he reached the party. Loud and obnoxious. An outside party, which made it easier to grab Derek and go.

Mickey walked in like he belonged and began looking. It wasn't hard to find the cross Derek looked like he was getting crucified on.

Good thing Derek was already out cold. Mickey didn't know why and frankly; didn't care.

Mickey messed with and loosened some ropes to carry Derek. He was heavy; granted the wood added to it, Mickey grunted. Waving partygoers off and he dragged Derek to the theater.

Thank whoever that it was not a far walk. It took longer with dragging the cross but eventually Mickey made it.

He, unceremoniously, dropped Derek down on the stage floor.

Mickey huffed, going backstage. He knew somewhat of what to do. It still took him a minute. The chilly air of the theatre didn't help and only made Mickey’s movements jerky.

Mickey lowered down a prop; a stable, wooden peg for some scene and Mickey tied Derek to it. It wasn't an easy task, he had to make sure Derek wouldn’t slip off it and fall to his death too early.

After Mickey had Derek secure enough; he went backstage and put the levels back and made sure Derek elevated out of sight.

Mickey stared into a backstage mirror, he sighed. Before walking off into a changing room. He still hates the Ghostface robes that felt heavier than usual as he put them on. At least it was extra warmth from the cold, night air. Did this place have no heating?

The cold air stopped its relentless biting into Mickey’s bones. He put the mask in place, fixing it and positioning it correctly. He wouldn’t need it for long, not very long.

Mickey walked out the back entrance, walking over to an alley.

Mickey stayed, hidden in the shadows stalking, watching as Hallie and Sidney were loaded into the back of the cop car.

For ‘safety’ but killers don’t wait for their prey to fall into a neat trap. They need to pounce, strike. Or they’d never get the kill.

Mickey waited, building up tension that would make the atmosphere feel uneasy and uncomfortable.

Mickey waited until Officer Andrews looked back at the two women in the backseat. Mickey quickly made his way, crouching down so as not to be seen too early

When Mickey was close enough, he jolted up. Sidney screamed immediately but Officer Andrews didn't notice until the window shattered.

Mickey hit the edge, smack in the middle is the strongest point and he didn't want to break his hand. Even as he felt blood pooling slowly against his knuckles beneath the glove.

Mickey was quick, he knew the officers were armed. He slit Officer Andrews’ throat in such a clean slice, Officer Richards only noticed when the blood started pooling around the deep wound.

When Mickey spotted Officer Richards open his car door; Mickey quickly got on the roof. Kicking Officer Richards in the face when the opportunity arose.

Mickey felt badass and stupid at the same time.

Officer Richards immediately went down, catching himself on the car door. Hallie’s and Sidney’s screams annoyed him. But he knows it’s an appropriate reaction.

Mickey jumped down, boots hitting hard against the concrete road. He grabbed Officer Richards and slammed him against the back window glass. Making the women scream louder.

Mickey after causing the damage and Hallie banging on her door; he threw Officer Richards against the hood of the car, he hit it with a limp thud and then hit the road.

Officer Andrews lay dead blood staining his uniform as Hallie and Sidney tried to make a scene, trying to get somebody, anybody to help.

Mickey got it in the car, threw Officer Andrews out of it and he revved the engine.

Officer Richards managed to get up, pointing his gun at Mickey and saying something unintelligible. Mickey just tilted his head and he pressed his foot hard on the gas.

Officer Richards was thrown on the windshield as Mickey drove at top speeds. To his credit; Officer Richards was hanging on tight.

Officer Richards’ was yelling but Mickey; with the officer on the windshield and how he could barely see out these eyeholes… Mickey drove recklessly. Swerving and wildly turning the wheel.

Mickey didn't notice when he hit traffic cones or went through the closed-off road. He swerved side-swiping and causing sparks as he hit a car but he kept on driving.

Mickey drove through roadblocks and poles, Officer Richards hit a pole, leaving a shatter in the windshield. Mickey didn't notice, not even when he ran into a concrete roadblock.

…

Mickey felt dizzy waking up after Sidney crawled over him to get out of the wrecked car.

Mickey’s head was killing him, he stayed silent despite the fog clouding his thoughts. He slipped out the window while Hallie and Sidney were distracted.

Hallie pleaded with Sidney to just go, to run but Sidney was too hard-headed and crept up to the side of the car. Wanting to unmask the killer. But Mickey was already gone.

Sidney turned back and Hallie beckoned her to run now. But Mickey had other plans, appearing behind Hallie and stabbing her while Sidney just screamed. Not doing a thing.

Hallie crumbled, falling lifeless to the floor and Sidney ran into the theatre as planned. Mickey stopped at the door.

His thoughts were scattered but one thought remained; Randy. He stayed there longer than necessary.

Randy was peacefully sleeping in the hospital, unaware of what was happening.

Nancy was paying him… But could he handle leaving Randy alone if things went south? Mickey knows when something's wrong. He crashed that car and he hit it hard.

Mickey could feel blood starting to leak through the black cloth from where he had hit his head.

Was Nancy’s money worth his life? Mickey would

Say yes, if he were thinking clearly.

But Mickey’s mind was racing, he was scatterbrained and could only think of Randy and if Nancy would betray him.

Mickey knew he’d slice Nancy up if someone paid him higher than she was and he knew she’d slice him up if she saw him as a threat.

So, Mickey made a split-second decision. Mickey threw the robes and mask away, and he snuck in the back. He was done playing into Nancy’s schemes.

This would break the agreement between him and Nancy but Mickey did not care.

Mickey peered around the corner; seeing that Derek was already dropped down and awake, he could not hear what Sidney was saying as she tugged on the ropes, trying desperately to untie Derek.

But her movements were clumsy from her shaky hands.

Mickey appeared from the shadows, actively scaring Sidney out of her skin.

“Mickey?” Sidney said, her voice laced with confusion and accusation.

Mickey put his hands up, he swayed slightly. Almost unnoticeable.

“Hey, Sid, what… God, why is Derek hung up?” Mickey said, trying to keep up his best performance even as he felt like his brain was cloudy.

It didn't seem to work at first, Sidney’s breathing got a little heavier but she relaxed slightly when Mickey came to help untie Derek.

Mickey’s own movements were uncoordinated, and his vision was starting to blur. He huffed softly, still trying.

Finally, after long, grueling minutes. Derek was freed. His legs were like jelly, his knees buckled and he held onto Sidney.

Mickey held onto the prop, his mind going slightly blank. Sidney knew something was wrong, she helped Derek stand on his own and grabbed Mickey’s arm.

Mickey didn't hear Sidney speak; he heard her voice but it sounded like they were underwater.

Mickey snapped back after hearing the door behind them open, and Gale was shoved in. Sidney looked betrayed, wondering if this was Gale’s doing. She knew Gale wanted publicity but would she go this far?

Then another woman stepped in, a gun pointed at Gale. It took Sidney a second before she recognized the other woman.

Nancy Loomis. Billy’s mother.

Mickey missed most of what happened next, still feeling horrible. Until Nancy pointed the gun at him.

He put his hands up as Nancy spoke.

“I had to have someone help, I could not afford to get my hands dirty,” Nancy said, looking at Sidney.

“Sid,” Mickey spoke, rubbing at his temples. “She’s lying, why would I… Would I be willing to work with her? And risk being put in prison or dead?”

Nancy’s mouth opened at Mickey’s words. Mickey took Sidney’s shaking hand in his own unsteady one.

“Why would I want to put my friend through trauma again? Why would I save Randy if it was my mission to kill you?” Mickey was convincing.

After all, would Sidney believe her ex-boyfriend and almost killer’s mother or her friend who has been there for her?

“Don’t pin this on him!” Sidney snapped at Nancy, even though her voice shook. “Why are you blaming him? Trying to drag someone down with you?”

All eyes were on Nancy, Nancy met Mickey’s gaze. He gave a small smirk. Before turning his face back neutral.

Nancy was pissed. She aimed right where Mickey’s heart was and fired.

Mickey let out a choked sound, and Sidney screamed. She tried to keep Mickey upright.

Mickey hated feeling weak, he should be stronger than this! He has been shot before, why was this any different? Why is this the one to bring him down?

All this just to die? Well, now? He’ll get medical treatment and maybe live. He won’t be convinced of murder. All his and Nancy’s plans were verbal. No trail. No proof for Nancy to claim otherwise.

Mickey grunted, his vision spotting. He could barely make out Sidney’s voice, trying to get him to stay awake. He didn't notice the struggle or the gun getting knocked out of Nancy’s hands.

One of Mickey’s hands reached to touch the spot where he was shot. Blood gushed, soaking his shirt. He was more upset about his shirt, he likes this one.

Slowly raising his head; Mickey met Sidney’s wide terrified eyes before his own drooped closed.

…

Mickey opened his eyes again; he was in the back of an ambulance. A miracle he woke up at all.

He had an IV drip in, a bandage around his chest; his shirt cut open and a paramedic was bandaging the wound on the side of his head.

Mickey’s throat felt full of cotton. He couldn't speak, maybe he didn't want to. He had nothing to say.

The paramedic was saying something Mickey was catching. The overhead light was giving him a headache.

Mickey groaned, which he felt his throat constrict.

Mickey heard bits and pieces of the paramedics talking about blood transfusion, head trauma, and surgery. Mickey wasn’t paying attention, not that he really could.

He doesn't remember getting to the hospital; just the lights making his head worse and he now had Derek there. Sidney was probably with Gale telling her not to record for her news.

Mickey was wheeled into a temporary room, he didn't hear what Derek was saying; probably just something to keep Mickey awake.

Mickey stared into Derek’s eyes, holding his gaze.

A nurse came in minutes later and Derek was talking to Sidney at the door. The nurse prepared Mickey for surgery. Mickey forgot he had just been shot through the heart and that it may be life-threatening.

She was getting him all ready and Mickey finally caught one word; “Concussion.” A heart injury and a concussion? Just great.

Mickey stayed still as he had a mask put on. He wondered about what Randy would think. Apparently, this is the best hospital or the only one as Mickey recognized it as the one Randy was still staying at.

Mickey had a mask to administer anesthesia, and two nurses rolled him out. He passed Randy’s room after a bunch. He managed to catch Randy’s eye and Randy’s face paled.

Randy shouted something and Sidney came to his room door, emotion flashing across her face as she stepped in.

Mickey then promptly; fell back asleep, despite fighting the anesthesia.

…

Mickey then woke up; with a warm hand in his. Well, he wasn't dead but felt cold.

“You’re an idiot. I thought I lost you.” Randy’s voice filled Mickey’s ears.

Finally, he could hear clearly again.

Mickey looked over at Randy, sitting in a chair. Mickey wanted to ask why Randy was out of his bed. But Mickey couldn't find his voice.

Mickey’s mouth opened and closed before he groaned.

“You don't need to speak, if you can’t,” Randy said, standing up. “Don’t push yourself, you just had surgery.”

Mickey nodded, he felt as stiff as a board. He scooted over slightly. Pulling Randy down on the cramped hospital bed, Randy was careful as he positioned himself not to hurt Mickey.

Randy wanted to get up, he didn't want to make Mickey’s injuries hurt or worse.

Randy rested his head on the non-injured side of Mickey’s chest. He huffed, messing with some buttons on Mickey’s hospital gown.

Randy was careful not to mess with Mickey’s IV drip, or his blood one. Mickey lost a lot of blood.

Mickey wrapped an arm around Randy. His hand came up to mess with Randy’s tousled hair.

Mickey turned to the TV and as he expected; Gale Weathers was reporting on the scene. Nancy hadn't died but had been arrested and was in police custody.

Mickey knew he’d have to give a statement, and Nancy no doubt would still say he was helping her. She’s right but Mickey will convince the police that Nancy is just a little delusional.

Mickey decided not to dwell on it and focus on the boy in his arms. That was speaking about whatever was on his mind. As if Mickey would disappear.

Randy sighed softly, grabbing Mickey’s free hand. Interwoving their fingers together. Tightly, Mickey was still weak from everything.

Mickey smiled down at Randy whose cheeks were flushed a pretty pink. He glared up at Mickey, gritting his teeth.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again. Got it?”