His Girl - Michael Myers x Reader {NEW Rewrite (2022)}

✗ Chapter 49: Breakfast Butterflies ✗

"Anything else...?"
"Nope. Thanks Ali, I appreciate it."

Once you and Alina had politely said your goodbyes, you hung up and tucked your phone into your pocket; hugging your arms like before while you wondered what to do for the next couple of hours. After all, it was only ten, and Ali was arriving around twelve...So what could you—? Oh! Breakfast. You'd been so anxious that you'd almost forgotten about breakfast. It might help calm you down if you made yourself some food and spent some time with Michael first. So after taking a deep breath, you intertwined your fingers with his and led the two of you into the kitchen - indicating for the mute male to take a seat as you started preparing breakfast.

But Michael wouldn't take a seat, your partner standing right behind you whilst he wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you as strongly as humanly possible instead. "Don't you ever get tired from standing up almost all day...?" You gently wondered, a tiny smile sliding across your face once you'd spun around to properly interact with him.

The silent slasher instantly shook his head, his gaze glinting with amusement shortly afterwards as he found what you'd just asked him to be faintly funny. "But when I first woke up beside you in your older sister's room, your face looked absolutely drained." You commented curiously, thinking back to said previous moment and becoming confused. "Not to mention entirely exhausted. Mind explaining that...?"

Michael's face looked tired and worn-out; the killer's arms wrapped around your waist as he held onto you tremendously tightly.

Taking out his notepad from his boiler suit's navy-blue pocket, he stopped the softhearted hug for a moment to reply to your question; his scribbled-out response starting to look insanely messy and untidy this time around. While minutes passed, you finished cooking breakfast - delicious and yummy looking - pancakes, placing them on top of plates before setting them on the kitchen table. Then you gestured for Michael to sit down a second time - to which he did - the killer passing you the notepad once he had. But after you'd finished reading it, your heart started to pound, surprise fluttering across your eyes as shock forced you to freeze up completely.

"I ᗪOᑎ'T ᑌᔕᑌᗩᒪᒪY GᖇOᗯ TIᖇEᗪ. ᗷᑌT ᗰY E᙭ᕼᗩᑌᔕTIOᑎ ᖴᖇOᗰ ᗩ ᖴEᗯ ᗪᗩYᔕ ᗩGO ᔕTEᗰᗰEᗪ ᖴᖇOᗰ ᗷᖇEᗩKIᑎG OᑌT Oᖴ TᕼᗩT ᔕᕼITᕼOᒪE ᔕᗩᑎᗩTOᖇIᑌᗰ. ᑎOT ᒪIKE IT ᗯᗩᔕ ᗪIᖴᖴIᑕᑌᒪT. YOᑌ ᒍᑌᔕT ᕼᗩᐯE TO TᕼIᑎK OᑌTᔕIᗪE TᕼE ᗷO᙭. ᗷᑌT TᕼᗩT'ᔕ ᑎOT ᗯᕼY I ᗯᗩᔕ ᖴᖇᑌᔕTᖇᗩTEᗪ.

I ᗯᗩᔕ ᗯOᖇᖇIEᗪ OᐯEᖇ YOᑌ. ᖴIᖴTEEᑎ YEᗩᖇᔕ. ᖴIᖴTEEᑎ YEᗩᖇᔕ I ᗯOᖇᖇIEᗪ OᐯEᖇ YOᑌᖇ ᔕᗩᖴETY. ᗯᕼETᕼEᖇ Oᖇ ᑎOT I'ᗪ EᐯEᖇ ᔕEE YOᑌ ᗩGᗩIᑎ. I ᗯOᖇᖇIEᗪ ᗯᕼETᕼEᖇ YOᑌ ᗯEᖇE OK. ᗯᕼETᕼEᖇ YOᑌ ᗯEᖇE Iᑎ ᗩᑎY ᔕOᖇT Oᖴ ᗪᗩᑎGEᖇ.