Footsteps [Will GrossmanxReader]

5

You woke up in a rather unpleasant state. Your body was heavy as lead, your mouth was dry, and the remains of a headache haunted the corners of your mind.

You became aware of crackly music coming from a crappy speaker somewhere nearby. You couldn't name the song, but it was distinctly 80's music. Something was draped over you, and you were lying on something. It felt like an old, worn down mattress, and an equally quality blanket. By sense of touch alone, you knew one thing for certain: you were not in the Hospital.

With great effort you opened your eyes and were immediately assaulted by the light, causing your headache to flare up. You kept your eyes open and waited for your vision to clear up. Once it did, the first thing you noticed was the dust. Little particles were floating in the air, reflecting pale light from a tiny window above you. The curtains of said window were dark and musty, and as you looked around, you realized the same could be said for the rest of the place. Your accomodations resembled a single-room apartment, with a small kitchenette and two doors, adjacent to one another, and a closet door. One door probably lead to a bathroom, and the other outside of the apartment. There wasn't much furniture, just the bed you were lying on, a desk with an old laptop, and a worn-out chair in the corner. You noticed that there was a window on three out of four walls, which meant that you were not in an apartment building, but a small cabin of some sort.

You were considering the risk of sitting up to peek outside of the window when you heard a noise outside of the door. It sounded like a voice, loud enough to be heard but obscure enough that you couldn't understand the words. Then there was a second voice, of a different timbre. Both were deep enough that they had to be male. You strained your ears to decipher what they were saying, to no avail.

The voices stopped and your heart skipped a beat when you saw the doorknob twist and heard it click. You quickly shut your eyes and acted like you were still asleep. The door opened and was slammed shut. The floorboards groaned unhappily as the person walked across the room, each foot step agonizingly clear to you. You heard the person mumbling, the voice confirming it was a man.

"Reckless idiot....damn him...." The man grumbled as he walked over to the kitchenette, grabbed something from the fridge, and walked over to the desk. Once he took a seat, he started doing something on his laptop. He was sitting so close you could hear his breathing and all of his little movements. At the same time, you were hyper-aware of the sound of your own breath and heartbeat, which you tried your best to keep steady. You didn't know where you were, why you were here, or who that man was. It was very possible that any moment could be your last.

With that in mind, you also felt an insatiable tug of curiosity, driving you to take a peek at the unknown figure before you. You obliged.

You cracked one eye open, just a sliver, and through your eyelashes you caught your first glimpses of the man. Your view was blurry, but you could make out a dark greenish-brown jacket with a grey hood pulled up over the man'a head. By reflex your eye opened a little more when you saw the mask he wore on his face. It was white and styled like a Venetian Fiend mask, with a long curved beak. The faded paint and cracked texture gave the impression that it was antique, not some cheap Halloween store purchase. With clearer vision you looked him over once more and noticed stains on his jacket. Dark, layered stains.The kind that could never be fully washed out. His hands were wrapped in bandages.

Your heartrate increased to a million miles per hour. You must have made some small noise, because he abruptly turned and looked at you. You squeezed your eyes shut, but knew it was too late. He'd seen you.

You opened your eyes again and met his stare. His eyes were shaded by the mask, but the longer you looked, the more certain you were that they were blue. A few locks of blonde hair curled out from under his hood and framed his face. It seemed that both of you were speechless. His lips parted slightly, as if to say something, but no words came out, and he closed his mouth again. There was something familiar about him. Something in the back of your mind was screaming, telling you that you should recognize him.

Had you seen him on the News? In the papers? Was he a wanted serial killer or something? You gripped the corner of the blanket, and suddenly the first revelation hit you. You knew that white mask. It was the same one you'd seen outside your window that one night. The face you'd tried to convince yourself was your imagination.

So it was true, you were being stalked. And now, lying in this unfamiliar place, you could only assume you had been kidnapped. Dozens of questions ran through your head. Why you? What was he planning to do to you? Kill you, or something even more unspeakable? What had you done to deserve this? The question that came to the forefront, however, quieted all of the rest. You just couldn't shake the feeling that your recognition went further than the mask. How did you know him?

You sat up a little, breaking the trance of your prolonged eye contact. The masked man quickly leaned away from you, gripping the chair and desk with his bandaged hands. His neck and face became flush with color, which grew more and more intense until his skin was bright red. That's when it hit you. You knew that blush. You knew him.

"Oh my god. Will?!"