Michael Myer's sweater (Michael Myers x reader)

Sweater

Another day that Michael came 'home', the home he inhabited occasionally, with another good sweater ruined by blood and gashes. This time a victim had held onto his hem too, which caused it to stretch beyond repair. It was not an uncommon occurrence, ruined clothing. It was the lead-up to Halloween and he was more restless than normal. You were understanding, as much as you could be. But with this particular sweater, it was different. Your grandmother taught you to crochet after Christmas last year, and ever since then, you had worked on it. You needed her help with adjusting the pattern to Michael's behemoth measurements. It was a lot of work, and a lot of mistakes were made and eventually fixed. You even embroidered little knifes along the collar. It would all be worth it, you believed, as the man would finally have something in his proper fit, that made him feel warm and adored.

And now it was ruined. In the usual ritual, you helped him take it off, care for his injuries, bathe him – before examining the damage done. You could barely blame him. Since receiving it for his birthday, he wore it any chance he got. And another favourite had shrunk in the dryer, so there was little left of the pile of warmer clothing.

Michael noticed something was off, however. You were quieter than usual. A little less happy to see him. It did not take him long to add two and two together and realise it was because of the sweater that made him so happy upon receiving it. Not being able to stand the thought of having upset you, he left home with a very different purpose.

After a long and tiring afternoon of studying and the final exam, you finally came home. On the kitchen table laid a sweater, in your favourite colours. When you picked it up, a note fell down, it read: 'I want you to be warm too. I'll be more careful from now on. M.'

It was difficult to believe Michael had gone to a physical store, where people were, to get you a gift. Just imagining it made you grin. There's a shuffling behind you, and when you turn around, You were faced with Michael, in his favourite Halloween mask, wearing a new sweater also. It had a nice warm collar and a partial zipper down the front. He tugged on the sleeves, before holding his arms open to you and you hugged him tight. The behemoth lifted you off your feet and pressed you tight against him. He was warm, as always, and he smelled of sandalwood and of new clothing. He was home.

Not long after, you had him take off his new garment to embroider matching details over the heart as you made on yours. He sat and watched you, shirtless, leaning back on your bed, with the patience you admired so much.