RZ Michael Myers x Male Reader

16

(Y/n) grabbed a box and placed it down on the floor. He sighed, relieved that it had been the last box. He turned over and started to open it, unpacking and organizing anything that had been boxed away.

After a few hours, (Y/n) grabbed a glass of (fruit) smoothie he had made and sat on the couch. He turned the TV on for background noise before calling his mom, "hi mom! I finished unpacking!" "Oh really!? Can I come by tomorrow? I'll make you some lunch". How could (Y/n) say no to that? Without any hesitation, he quickly agreed. After a few minutes of talking, the call ended and (Y/n) went back to sipping his smoothie. Just as he was about to turn on Netflix instead, the news started playing.

"It has been so long ever since the murders on Halloween night". Why were they still talking about this? Yeah Michael killing his family was bad, but why are they mentioning it like 10 years later? (Y/n) looked at the TV, confused, but decided to just listen. "With Halloween quickly approaching, we want to warn all neighborhood kids, if you see something say something. Report it to your parents, a trusted adult, and the police". "They do this every year," (Y/n) said to himself. He grabbed the remote next to him and turned the TV off. He stood up and dropped his cup on the sink, pouring out any extra leftovers of the drink and washed it. He placed it on the drying rack and walked to his room. He hadn't realized how tired he was. A little sleep wouldn't hurt, right?

Dr. Loomis ran into the facility, attempting to cover his head from the pouring rain with his arm. He quickly walked into the facility and pushed the doors open. He was greeted with the receptionist, who already knew Dr. Loomis. "You bouta dry off before you get sick, Dr. Loomis". He nodded, "I'll manage". He scanned his workers ID before taking an elevator to his office. He scuffed around, taking out his wet jacket and dusted his shirt. As the elevator doors opened, Dr. Loomis fixed his posture before getting out. The elevator doors closed behind him as he walked down the hall and into his office. He hung his jacket behind the door and sat on his desk. He sighed before turning to a bunch of paperwork. Stress started building up as Michael's new nurse doesn't get a reaction out of him. Michael just ignored the nurse and never reacted to anything she said. Dr. Loomis rubbed his temples. Why wasn't he reacting? With an annoyed sigh, he turned to his computer and started typing. He needed to get (Y/n) to work again.

After a few hours of filling paperwork, Dr. Loomis decided a quick message to (Y/n) wouldn't hurt. He pulled out a letter and started to write, reminding the ex-nurse that the offer was still up.

(Y/n) yawned and rubbed his eyes before stretching his muscles. He felt his muscles loosen before groaning. With an annoyed expression, he climbed out of bed and checked the time. It was already six in the afternoon. "Why couldn't I just stayed asleep," (Y/n) complained. He walked over to his kitchen before deciding to prepare dinner. He lazily gathered a few pots and pans before going into the living room and grabbing the remote. He turned the TV on and out the volume up, making him have background noise for when he cooks. He went back into the kitchen and started to turn on the oven. He wasn't really paying attention to the TV, but just decided to focus on the food. He decided to make simple chicken soup. As he threw in a few ingredients and started to stir the pot, his mind drifted back to the facility.

Dr. Loomis was offering more money, and the workers that assaulted him and that other girl were hired. Why couldn't he just stay working at the facility? (Y/n) shook his head, disappeared with his own mind. Of course he had to leave. He didn't want to stay somewhere that will bring back memories. The thought of getting assaulted so easily bothered him. Did he really seem that weak and fragile? (Y/n) didn't notice the way his hand started to slowly slip from the spoon, and accidentally touched the side of the hot pot. "FUCK!" He cursed to himself as he felt his skin start to burn. He quickly went over to the sink and turned on the cold water, putting his hand under it so cool off. He answered his own question. "People really do see me like that, huh.." he sighed. He felt his hand cool down and decided to go back to stirring. He drowned out the sound of the TV and hummed to himself. He needed to get his mind else where, but he couldn't help it. His mind drifted back to his assault. He thought about how Michael sees him. "I got assaulted in front of him- how embarrassing," he said. But why was he embarrassed? It wasn't his fault. No. He wasn't embarrassed about getting assaulted. He's glad Michael stepped in. He's embarrassed about looking so weak in front of him. "He probably thinks I'm such a pussy now," he signed. With that mental argument going on in his head, he finally concluded it didn't matter. It didn't matter if Michael thought (Y/n) was some lame guy. It didn't matter because (Y/n) wasn't going to see him again.