Something Amiss (Hoodie x Reader)

Thirty Four: Hotel Management

TW: gore, violence, character development?

Twelve hours had passed since Brian kissed you. Neither of you brought it up. You felt far too awkward about it, and you supposed he was giving you space to figure yourself out. You were grateful - he took you by surprise, and he knew it.

You were conflicted and confused. Perhaps the signs had been there, of Brian caring about you in that way. The way he had been touching you more and more, his more agreeable tone. Now that you thought about it, you were almost certain they were. But the problem was, you had no clue how you felt. Was it wrong to accept affection, just because you were touch starved? Would he even care? You were glad he didn't awkwardly confess his feelings, you weren't obliged to say or do anything. It was only a kiss.

You spent the rest of the daylight hours sleeping. You were exhausted just from your little trip up to the roof, and still in recovery. You stayed out of Brian's way, and he stayed out of yours - you could hear the faint clicking of a keyboard coming from the hall.

He'd brought groceries home on one of his missions a couple of days ago. Yet you couldn't bring yourself to make anything - you felt sick to your stomach, weak as all hell. You only sipped on water.

Brian left some time in the late evening, while you were letting the hours slip by on your phone. Mask on, yellow Hoodie covering his frame. Not before wordlessly pulling a blanket over you, as he was forming a habit of doing - you were feverish, but you didn't have the heart to kick it off until you heard his heavy footfalls exit the room, front door softly groaning. If your cheeks weren't already hot, you would have blushed.

The evening was unsettling. The show you were watching was a supernatural thriller, but you had to turn it off at a particularly gory part where a demon feasted on a living girl's flesh, her screams coming loud and clear from the tv and rattling off the walls around you. A touch too close to home.

At around eleven p.m., a buzzing on the seat next to you alerted you to a call. Strange, considering when you last (suspiciously) went through your contacts, you found that Brian had blocked the number of literally everyone you knew besides him, E.J., roadside assistance, and (to your amusement) the local pizza place. A necessary precaution, but you really needed to change his password. Although you knew if he really wanted in, he'd get his way somehow. Real controlling boyfriend shit right there.

The number on your screen, consequently, was from an unknown caller. The digits looked kind of familiar, but you weren't in the habit of memorising the contact details of absolutely everyone you knew. You swallowed thickly, shaking off bad memories as you hesitantly tapped the green button.

In hindsight, that was not the best idea. Yet trouble just had a way of making it to you.

"Hello?"

Nothing met you with an answer other than laboured breathing and a soft mechanical hum. Who the fuck?

Then, just as you were planning on hanging up and overthinking the call for like ten hours until Brian came home, there was a noise. Loud, male. Obnoxious cackling, right in your ear - maddened guffawing. You dropped the phone, gasping at the sudden intrusion right in your eardrum. It landed on the floorboards below with a dull thud. The cackling only grew louder, echoing dully off the floorboards.

Your heart raced as you clambered away from the maniacal noise on pure instinct. After a short moment what was left of your common sense kicked in, and you held your breath as you picked the buzzing fucking thing up and hung up the line.

Your first thought was that Masky was taunting you. But you knew the sick sound of his laughter from the night he'd pinned you against Cass' wall and threatened to rip your jugular out. You were fairly certain that the voice wasn't the same.