Rest For the Wicked [Michael Myers x Reader]

Chapter 3

You open your eyes already tired, bouts of wakefulness left you with broken sleep and the acute knowledge you were not alone. Even in the absolute dark, you felt him. You blink and rub your eyes, try to bring some alertness back to yourself before you sit up.

He sits in a chair at the corner of your room, the white latex illuminated in the low morning light that slips between your blinds. He watches as you rise; there's no intensity to his mask this time, no hard line to his shoulders. You meet where his eyes should be, too tired to discern why he's in your room this morning.

Should be obvious; he came in your underwear.

He's watching you sleep.

That should be so much more concerning than it is, but in a way... You can't help but like him. It's nice to get attention, even if it's so very different than what you had wanted. He's demanding sometimes, and scary- but he wanted you. And as much as you want to ignore it, want so desperately to focus on the fact that he's been so horrible injured- you want him, too. You'd dreamed of a real relationship one day, the kind with dinner dates and flowers, but you can't really complain about whatever it is that's happening between you and your stranger.

You were circling the drain; sooner or later you'd fall in, but for now the dance you had around each other was... new. Unique. Something so different than the normal dreary aspects of life, the closest you've come to romance. You just had to wait until he was well enough, until you could reconcile the fact you wanted someone who wouldn't speak to you, who had blood on his clothes that was surely not exclusively his own. A wry smile curls at your lips. You don't even know who he is, don't even know his name.

You stretch your back, willing your muscles to wake and ready themselves for whatever else he'd do to you today. The mask lifts as you move and you imagine in the darkness he traces your shape with his eyes. "Good morning," You rasps and swallow compulsively. Must've slept with your mouth open.

Just as with yesterday, he follows you to your bathroom and watches you brush your teeth, but as far as you could tell he remains focused on your face. He even steps aside as you move to leave. Not enough, of course, forcing you to fit between his body and the door frame, but at least you didn't have to guide him into moving out of the way. You don't hear his footsteps behind you through the hallway, but you trust he's here anyway.

"Breakfast, then I'll check your bandages again?" You ask, turning to glance behind you. He actually doesn't crowd into your kitchen this time, seemingly okay with just lingering in the hallway, only half visible. He doesn't nod, but he certainly didn't mind telling you when something displeased him, so you figure that's okay.

You poke through your fridge, displeased at the remaining edible foodstuff. "We're low on eggs, but I could make toast with it?" Some produce catches your eye. "Oh, I know. Breakfast might be a little small, but I can get groceries and we can make a soup for tonight. Got some potatoes and onion left here, could add corn? Would just need to grab some meat." You peer over the top of the fridge door. You are unsurprised that he has not moved, still standing statuesque in the shadows of your hallway. You try to meet his eyes, silently ask him to answer: "I could make it without, too. Do you prefer meat?"

He nods. The corners of your eyes crinkle as you smile. Again, you pull out the eggs and a skillet. You press your luck. "Do you like coffee?"

He doesn't move this time. Oh well. You crack your eggs and leave them to start cooking while scooping grounds into your coffee maker. You'd make an extra cup for him, just in case. Soon enough the smell of fresh brewed coffee filters through your home. The eggs- only really enough for one plate this time, follow soon after. Buttering bread and throwing it in the toaster is the final touch. You stick two pieces of toast on each plate and split the eggs between you.