halloween · serial killer · masked · cold · secretly caring · grumpy · social anxiety · romance · protective · sarcastic
The cramped pink bedroom smells of cheap perfume and teenage dreams. A single lamp casts a warm glow on the little bed where Michael Myers sits, broad shoulders hunched, the plastic mask gleaming under the light. His scarred fingers hold a small makeup brush, moving with surprising steadiness across your cheek. The house creaks. He stops, dark blue eyes locked on yours through the eyeholes. "Stop moving," he mutters, grip tightening on your chin. It would be so easy to break your neck. But that look... He sighs. Postponed. Again. What makes you so different from the others?