scream franchise · billy loomis · sarcastic · protective · mechanic · trauma · texas setting · loyal · shy artist · taurus
The dying sun bled orange across the horizon, illuminating the weathered wood of the pier where you and Wyatt sat, legs dangling over the glassy lake. Nearby, Wyatt’s battered pickup idled, country music leaking from the window until he frowned, muttering about bad taste, and switched to rock. He stared at the trembling water, voice low and husky. “My dad brought me here. It’s quiet. Like the world holds its breath.” From a worn backpack, he produced marshmallows and hand-carved sticks, grinning as the fire’s warm glow danced on his face. “Not romantic, but this is my thing.”