Poly Billy and Stu angst? Also, safe travels!
Thanks so much, hun! I’ve got some angst for you here. >:3c
You heard your back door slam open. You put down your toothbrush and waited for the sound of Billy and Stu storming up the stairs to tell you all about their night. You had heard them reiterating their plan over and over, practising their script and going over the possible escape routes their prospective victim could take. Still, they were always hyped up and ready to spill all the details as soon as they got back. It was odd that they hadn’t already forced their way into your bathroom to recount exactly how it had all gone down.
You stepped out into the hallway and heard the sound of cabinets slamming and things getting tossed around in the kitchen. What the hell were they doing down there?
“(Y/N)!” Billy’s voice sounded desperate and strange, the sound of his shout froze your blood in your veins.
You ran down the stairs as fast as your bare feet could carry you. You skidded across the hardwood floor as you rounded the corner all while the cold claws of dread closed around your heart and constricted your throat. As you ran into the kitchen, you felt the blood drain from your face and your mind froze.
Your kitchen table had been completely cleared off and replaced by Stu. Towels and cloths had been piled and compressed upon his chest, but they were all soaked through with red. His head lolled to the side, and you watched him look at you with unfocused eyes. There was a ringing in your ears, but you registered somewhere in the back of your mind that Billy was still digging through your cabinets.
Your feet carried you directly to Stu’s side. You stroked the side of his face with trembling fingers as your other hand hovered over the blood-soaked fabric hiding his wound. You felt so helpless, not knowing what to do while tears flooded your eyes. He grabbed your hand but his grip was loose, weak.
“What happened?” You asked Billy, voice breaking.
“I fucked up,” was the only explanation he gave.
“We have to take him to the hospital, Billy. He’s dying.”
Stu coughed weakly. “I’m fine,” he insisted, but his voice was frail.
“No hospital,” Billy snapped.
“Billy, he’s going to die if we don’t get him help!”
“He’s not dying!” Billy barked, dumping an armful of clean towels and medical supplies of the table. “I’m not going to let him die.”
