My Zombie Boy (Patrick Hockstetter X Reader)

Chapter 1

1,064 Words

--Third person pov--

After parking Amy in a secluded place, the walking corpse that was once Patrick Hockstetter. Made his way back to what he thought was still his house, limping ever so slowly through the night. Careful to not be seen, his eye scanned the area around the house. Wondering momentarily what was different about the place, he hobbled towards the back knowing he was fully capable of breaking in through the back door without making a sound. It took him a few minutes to open the door, his hands not quite working the way they used to, but he still managed to be silent. Creeping up the stairs carefully placing one foot at a time, remembering where every creak was in the old wood steps. He ignored the fact that everything seemed wrong, and went straight for his room not knowing what else to do, or where else to go for that matter. But when he closed the door he released this was a bad idea. The room was setup similar to how he had it, but his posters were replaced. Along with his twin size bed being replaced with a queen, his once white dresser now black and decorated with skulls. His eye quickly shifting from the room itself to the bed, as someone began to stir in their sleep. The faint moan they let out, told him it was a girl, though he had guess as much already from the dark Purple and black bedspread. Quietly he limped over to the bedside, the street light shining through the window lighting up the girls rather peaceful face. He frowned a little when she groaned in her sleep shifting again, mumbling out a quiet "What is that smell?" In fear that she might wake someone up he quickly covered her mouth with his right hand, waking her up instantly.

--(Y/n) pov--

The smell only seemed to get worse, annoying me greatly. "What is that smell?" I wondered aloud in a quite whisper, trying in vain to go back to sleep. That was until a hand clasped over my mouth, the smell now damn near unbearable. I gasped in shock despite the smell, my eyes popping open in an instant. And for a second I thought it must have been my loser of an ex trying to beg me to take him back. But what I was met with made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, goosebumps covering my arms and legs. A boy, or rather what was once a boy stood over me. His single milky white eye looking down at me, a seemingly sinister grin stuck on his face. "Q-qquiet." He groaned out the best he could, I nodded understanding. "H-h-" He cut himself off with a growl. "He-help." He finally managed removing his hand from my mouth. "How?" I asked sitting up fear still racking through my body, he seemed to think about it then shrugged. "What?" I frowned confused as to why he would ask me to help, and not know how I should help. He made an odd clicking sound, reminding me of the Predator from the Alien vs Predator movies. "How the hell am I supposed to help?" I questioned as he sat on my bed. "T-ttthe thing t-tthat di-diid this t-tooo me isss d-ead now." He stammered the best he could with no lips, and I almost couldn't understand him. "The thing that did this to you is dead now?" I questioned to make sure I heard him right, he nodded his head yes looking at me, his milky eye sending a shiver down my spine. "Okay... What's your name?" I asked surprisingly becoming comfortable around him already, but he shook his head no refusing to tell me his name. "Okay then zombie boy, what am I supposed to do with you?" He glanced around the room. "W-was mm-my room." I frowned a little. "My family moved into this house in 1992." He shrugged. "So I have to hide you here in my room, until we can figure out how to help you?" I half questioned half stated, the boy simply nodded his head yes. "Well luckily for us my folks don't ever come in here. Now before anything else you need a shower and bad, you smell like you've been swimming in a sewer for 12 years." I grimaced standing up from the bed to find something for him to wear. "Okay lucky for you I buy most of my band shirts in mens, and a few sizes to big. So your choice is Misfits, or Type O Negative." He pointed to the shirt of his choice and took the black sweat pants I had to offer. "I don't have any mens body wash or shampoo, but beggars can't be choosers. Oh and I suggested scrubbing gently, don't want your skin to peal away." I added nonchalantly as if this were a normal occurrence.

After his shower the boy limped back to my bed, and sat down on the opposite side of me. 'Well it's good I have my own bathroom.' I thought to myself, briefly thinking about how much better he looked cleaned up, well for a dead guy that is. "You smell a lot better." I stifled a laugh, while he just clicked at me again. "So... Do dead people still sleep?" I wondered biting my lip, he simply shook his head no. "Okay well I'm going to go back to sleep." I shrugged a little moving to get back under the covers. Half wondering if he was content with just sitting against my headboard, or if I should've offered him a book or something. But I drift off to sleep before I could ask him if he wanted something to do.

--Third person pov--

Patrick sat there watching the girl beside him sleep. He thought it was odd just how okay with this she seemed to be, but he wasn't complaining. He hadn't noticed before but looking down at her he noticed just how pretty she was, the moonlight ghosting across her pale skin her dark hair splayed across her pillow, a few strands lay across her face. As gently as he could he brushed away the stray hair and simply admired the view.