Stranger

Part 12

Note- sorry this one took so long to get out I struggle to write lol.

Later that same night, the two had already
enjoyed their nightly fire as usual and each made their way to their respective areas of the camp. Michael, was laying on his bed but not yet asleep, instead staring at the old wooden ceiling above. Staring past it because he was so lost in thought at the moment. He was thinking about Jason, to no surprise, and about how earlier he heard a name from one of the victims, and since the two had never really officially introduced themselves to eachother and would only refer to the other in their head as the stranger or the fishermen or the ghost , just about anything but an actual name. But now, Michael wondered if that was his actual name, Jason, or if it was just some random name they just pulled from some other local myth or legend. Jason...
How fitting though he thought, he couldn't really figure out why it might be fitting but it just felt right, that that was his name. Jason. The name repeated in his head. It was simple, common, like his own name, Michael.

Hm.

He would start to wonder what Jason knew him as, assuming he did not already somehow know his name. Maybe he could write it. Even if they did not speak or need to call for the other, it would be nice for them to have an actual name to call the other in their heads. Or ... would it? Now this branched more questions. Why would he need to know his name, why was he even still here? What was it that he had with this Jason, and why has he not attempted to kill him yet for being on his land.

Why don't I just leave.

Michael knew exactly why he wouldn't leave, but he would not admit it to himself, it made him sick to think about, so he did not think about it. At least, that's what he's been trying to do is push it away but it was getting harder to ignore, hell it started to keep him up just like right now. He wasn't even really sure what it was he was pushing away, he just knew he didn't like it, didn't like to try and think about it or figure it out because it was so foreign and different whatever the feeling was, it went against all he'd known for 21 years. It was new so he did not like it, but the thing was he wasn't doing anything to make it go away either. He kept feeding in to it. The only word he could think to describe it was maybe some sort of...comfort, with this Jason, but he did not like it, though he kept doing things with Jason that furthered this comforting feeling. He could leave right now and forget it all and continue to do what he did best, kill and by himself, no feelings, no help, no confusion or thinking, nothing but kill. But for some reason he wouldn't, and he hated that he wouldn't.

He almost wanted to go and look for Jason, if that was his name. Maybe he would somehow ask tomorrow.
Look for him and see where he slept, yes, and then one of these nights when he is sleeping he could sneak in and kill him. It was perfect, things could go back to normal and Michael could be on his way, or that's what he would try to convince himself he wanted to do.

But what if you break his trust.

Why does that matter?

...

He knows where you sleep.

You don't have to sleep here.

The boogeyman has stumped himself.

—-

Jason usually "woke up" with the sun, he did not need to sleep, but it was still nice to lay down sometimes and not always burden his decayed body with movement, just be still like a tree, least that's how he liked to think of it sometimes.

This morning  though after he stepped out of his shack, the air felt off, shifted, something was here that was not supposed to be. Jason's eyes slowly scanned the area, but nothing yet. His grip tightened around his machete handle. He would start to take a step forward before something revealed itself to his right from the side of his shack.
Michael.
Jason froze and just looked at him. Michael had never been to this area, at least not that he knew of. Still, why was he revealing himself now, why was he here.

Michael did not waste much time and continued to walk away from the cabin, stoping only to look behind him to see if Jason was following. Jason understand and began to follow.

Michael led him back to his own little cabin, Jason followed him inside and Michael began to scrimmage around in different dressers and drawers looking for something, Jason only watched since he was unsure of what he might be looking for, or else he'd help. Michael then looked into the desk- he found what he was looking for. Jason would try to peak and see what it was Michael was doing, or what it was he might've found. It looks like it was....paper?
Michael set it on the desk, which already had a pencil sitting out for him to use. Michael began to attempt to write something. Jason very confused, slowly scooted closer towards the desk to see what he might be writing.
As he got closer he saw written on the paper... J-A-S... the first 3 letters of his name.
Jason titled his head, how did he know?
Michael continued, J-A-S-O-N.

One he was finished, it wasn't the best handwriting but he held the paper up to J, pointing towards the name and then to Jason.

Jason wasn't the most literate, but he did know how to spell his own name, and though being a little confused on how he knew, he did slowly nod his head to confirm what it seemed Michael was asking.

Yes, my name.

Michael set the paper back onto the desk and would begin to write something else, and while he did Jason had remembered that one of the victims they were killing the night before did speak his name, that must've been how he knew.

Jason saw he was still scribbling something. He held the paper up to J again, it had another name under his.
Jason stared trying to slowly sound it out in his head. Luckily for Jason it wasn't a crazy unique name, it took him a moment but he knew it said Michael. Once Jason figured it out he looked at Mike.
Michael gave a singular nod.

My name.

Finally, J had a name for his ghostly friends face. Michael.