Mr. Sandman (A Michael Myers fanfic)

Chapter One

"Wait, you're friends with Michael Myers? The Michael Myers? The serial killer?"

"Yes! And stop calling him that, he's not a serial killer, serial killers are murderers who have multiple victims. He's a boy like me and you."

"Whatever, he's probably your boyfriend or something. What's it like having a serial killer for your boyfriend?"

"He is not my boyfriend! He's my friend, and it's no different than being friends with anyone else."

"Sure. Now tell us about him!"

"Well, where should I start..."

"From the beginning, then."

"Alright..."

  I was brought by a crazy old man to a hospital, but not any old hospital, a mental hospital. I was only 6 at the time, so I didn't understand, and asked a lot of questions. He said that people came here because they had something wrong with their brains, which I soon figured out. I looked like your typical 60's schoolboy, long, girly hair that was curled at the edges, knitted sweater, khakis and dress shoes, very worn dress shoes, mind you. As a young and curious, cute little schoolboy, I was the victim of many strange, long looks from the patients. Looking back at it I'm surprised I didn't scream and run out of the building, but the man who brought me- a doctor, Dr. Loomis- said there was nothing to fear. As we ventured through the hall, we took a right, went up two flights of stairs, went all the way down to the end of the corridor until we finally made it to a door, two away from the end.
 
  "Now, I want you to talk to him. Ask him questions about his life at home, and his family. Ask him about what goes on in his head, okay?" Loomis crouched down to be at eye level with me and handed me a coloring book with crayons. I nodded, and he opened the door. There I saw him. Michael Audrey Myers. He was sitting on a white bed, in a white, small room, with a table and a cafeteria tray with food on it. He was looking down at the ground, his feet hanging over the edge. I smiled when I saw him, for he was my friend from school, at least I think he was. I would always go up to him at recess, and whenever the teacher made us do partner work we were almost always assigned to each other, other days I volunteered myself to be his partner- when no one else would. He was a little shy, but there were times when me and him were alone where we could talk together. When we were apart though, he was so distant. Like he was never there. At recess, I would play on the swings or in the sand pit, when I swung I got up so high, while he just sort of pushed himself slowly. In the sand pit I'd draw things with my finger in the sand or build castles, he'd just stab sticks into the ground. Sometimes he'd make little teepees out of sticks, which I thought was funny. When we did art projects, he'd draw the cutest stick figures, while my drawings were always more askew. I was only in school with him for about a month, and then Halloween came, and he disappeared. At the time I didn't know why.

  I remember running up to him, the coloring book and crayons in my hands, and waving. "Hi Mikey! It's me! From school!" He didn't respond. "Hey, it's me, Joey!" Still nothing. "Zeze?" Silence. "Josef?!" I yelled, but not angrily. I just assumed he couldn't hear me. He blinked. I waved at his face, "HELLLLOOOOOOOO!" Loomis from the hallway whisper-yelled, "Don't be too loud! It agitates the other patients."
"It what?!"
"It- It angers the other patients, it makes them unhappy."
"Oh! Sorry!" I whisper-yelled back. I looked back at Michael, "I brought a coloring book, want to color with me?" He remained unresponsive. I heard the door close to my side. I jumped, but he stayed still as if nothing happened. I sat down on the floor in front of him, "Come down and sit with me!" I patted a spot next to me and opened the book. Slowly, he let his bare feet hit the floor with a plap. Plap, plap, plap, his slow footsteps made it over to me, and he sat down, cross legged. He had a hospital gown on, it was white and made of a cheap material, I could tell by the noise it made when he shifted, and how it looked. I dumped the box of crayons out onto the floor and spread them out, arranging them in color order. "Look, it's a rainbow!" He blinked. I frowned and opened up the coloring book, looking for a page that Michael would like. I really was just flipping through pages before he gave a reaction to any of them. I then flipped to a page with a big dog on it. I looked at him, and I could see his ears shifted, and his eyes seemed to be more open. "Michael? Are you okay?" He didn't respond, but I could notice his gown rising and falling faster. I flipped to the next page quickly, and he seemed to relax. "Do you not like dogs?"

Silence.

"Are you scared of them?"

  He lifted up his head a bit, and it fell back down to its original position. It wasn't quite a nod, but it was the most of a response I was going to get the whole night. I asked him about his family, his life, his thoughts, and I'd never get a word. Not a single word. I'd come for months, the same creepy stares at me in the hallways, the same questions, the same silence, the same few toys and crayons. It went on for years, until we were both pre teens. When we both turned 11, I felt a different aura when I entered his room. Sure, he was the same boy, but... it felt like he changed. He looked at me when I spoke, he didn't move his head, but his eyes followed me, like he wanted something from me. He still refused to speak, that made me sad, thinking I wasn't doing enough for him. But this was the day I was about to take a big step. We've known each other for five years, but throughout that half decade I was told never to lay a finger on him. But now, I feel it is an appropriate time to break that rule. I was allowed into his room by a nurse, who didn't care to watch me and left after she shut the door. There he stood, staring out the window.

   I made my presence known before I stepped up beside him to look out the window. It was a winter day, a light flurry of snow came from the sky, like a dusting of powdered sugar on a freshly baked doughnut. "How are you today?" I asked, turning my head to see if he reacted. He blinked. I sighed. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, "Michael, may I touch you?" Michael remained unresponsive. After a bit of silence, I slowly raised my left arm up behind his back, "I'm going to touch your shoulder now, okay...?" My hand shook as I lowered it onto him, fearing what consequences could be coming my way. I inhaled... and exhaled, as I put my hand on his shoulder. His head, which was initially tilted down, looked up. He looked straight ahead. I flinched, but didn't move my hand. I gently started to rub his shoulder, looking at him every now and then to see if he was responding. I didn't see him looking directly at me, but I did notice that he glanced down at my hand for a split second. Progress! I was about to take another step. "Michael, may I get closer to you?" We were at least a foot apart, but I intended on touching my left shoulder to his right. This is a big risk... I moved my foot closer to his, my shoe touching the side of his bare foot. He didn't seem to respond. Okay... I moved my other foot closer to me... our shoulders touched. Our sides were inches apart. It was like a sideways hug. A halfway hug. The perfect hug for right then.

  We stared out the window at the flurry of snow, how beautiful it was. It was November 19th, 1968. The day Michael let me move in a bit closer. On the outside my face was plain, but on the inside I was cheering. After a pause, I said, "You know, when I left yesterday , I really didn't want to go. I miss you when I have to leave. I like being here with you." He blinked. The thought crossed my mind of trying to touch his skin, but I shook it off. This was enough.

The kids around me were dumbfounded. "Woah..."

"Yeah, it's not that special but it's-"

"He really IS your boyfriend!"

"God dammit Daniel that was 3 years ago!"

"Haha, whatever. It's so cool that you get to see him though."

"Don't you ever get scared he'll go nuts and kill you?" A girl from a few feet down the long bench table chimed in.

"No, actually. I feel like where we are, we're past that, and I can trust him."

She leaned back a little and nodded.