His Girl - Michael Myers x Reader {Rewrite}

✗Chapter 7: Feisty Fight✗

The next day at school was a fun one; you and Michael hanging out together again. You had an art lesson - meaning you could draw whatever you felt like for the remainder of the class - so you sketched out a cherry blossom scene, proud of your drawing. Your coloured pencil scratched against the paper, a pink colour filling in the blank tree leaves as you hummed to yourself softly.

"Your drawing...I like it." Michael's voice snapped you out of your daydreaming thoughts, your eyes moving to his face whilst a smile spread across yours.

"Thanks. What are you drawing?" You wondered, putting your pencil down and giving him your full attention.

"A deer." His answer was brief and quiet - as if you'd judge him for what he had drawn.

Curious, your eyes now flickered to his A4 sheet of paper, wanting to see what he had done and why he was so dismissive of it. Turns out it was just like the photo. However this time you were prepared for such a gruesome image, so you didn't break down. He was telling the truth - it was a deer...but it wasn't alive. Its antlers were broken, blood scribbled everywhere, and the head wasn't attached to the rest of its body; creating a disturbing drawing.

"Why are you so fascinated by dead things? How can you look at them and not feel sadness?" You faintly questioned, frowning.

"I dunno. They just look so helpless, so innocent, so...pretty. If things are dead, they can't hurt you. Instead, you hurt them." Michael looked triumphant - like he'd just won a battle of brutality.

It made him stand out from the other kids, but not in a good light. It painted him in the shadows - as someone to avoid and run from. Even with his cute blonde-hair and striking blue eyes, something else lurked within; something that was screaming a warning. But you didn't want to take that warning, mostly because he was a friend.

The other part? Was curiosity. Curiosity of what laid beneath the lonely surface of the boy next to you, curiosity of why no one liked him, and curiosity about how he considered dead things pretty. It was at this point you realised Michael was different from the kids in your class, not only because of his strange interests, but because of the way he thought. The way he...he pictured things.

"You hurt things...so they can't hurt you. You take pride in hurting things...things weaker than yourself." You thought aloud quietly, gazing at his drawing.

"What's wrong with feeling better than them?" You flinched at his suddenly-harsh tone - not expecting him to grow defensive.

"Would you hurt me and feel good about it?" You looked back at your own drawing and coloured in the petals, feeling a little unnerved.

"No! No...You're the only one...the only one I can trust. The one person I want to stay close to." Michael panicked as he hoped he hadn't hurt you.

You smiled at him once he'd said that, warmed by his sweet sentiment and adoring words - pleased that he didn't want to hurt you like he did these animals. Soon art class was over and it was lunchtime again; your only time with Michael being now. The two of you talked whilst you walked towards the playground, engrossed in your own world as you engaged in different conversations and topics. It gauged from horror movies to types of hobbies, chatting in itself being fun.

Michael asked you to wait by the lockers, needing the bathroom as he unwillingly left your side. You began to hum again, feeling mindlessly happy and oddly at peace. Your freedom - along with these feelings - were extremely pleasant, causing your anxiety to be almost non-existent. Could this day get any better? Your question was answered when someone shoved past you; making you stumble and slam into the lockers with a surprised sound.

"Oops, sorry." An older boy apologised sarcastically, snickering. He had curly brown hair and dark-eyes, a malicious glint present in his gaze as he turned to face you.

"Um, no worries?" You didn't know how to respond, confusion washing over your face whilst you tried to avoid any conflict.

"So you're the new girl whose dad died, huh?" He did a fake-pout and purposely brought it up, hoping for a reaction. You didn't say anything, your heart hurting due to the painful subject of your father and the fact that he was gone.

"I was gonna cut you some slack, but you hang out with that freak Myers. Unlucky." He smiled unkindly, giving a slight shrug as he pushed you again.

"Michael isn't a freak. I like him." You stubbornly murmured.

"What are you, his girlfriend?" The older boy taunted and grabbed a fistful of your hair; causing you to let out a wounded cry.

You were about to answer him when a furious fist connected with his cheek, making the boy smack against the lockers and swear under his breath. Who had-? Michael. He stood to the right of you, enraged as blood stained his knuckle. He was twitching violently - his breathing unstable and heavy. His blue eyes were filled with frantic anger, mad on your behalf as he glared at the bullying boy.

"Well look who it is. It's Mikey." The older boy drawled and wiped the blood off of his cheek, a sneer sliding onto his face.

"Fuck off and leave her alone." Michael hissed venomously.

"We were just talking, weren't we, daddy's girl?" The other boy seized your waist, sending Michael a mocking glance as he pulled you closer to him.

The insulting nickname and intimate waist-holding sent Michael over the edge, the younger boy's hands curling around the older one's neck as he began to strangle him. You watched in horror whilst the other boy tackled your friend to the floor, the fight growing more and more heated with every passing minute. Why was Michael so mad? Sure, this guy was a bully - but all he had to do was go get a teacher! This was way too extreme!

"Stop it! Both of you, just stop!" You gasped and tried to get in the middle of the fight; deciding stop it yourself.

The older boy just slapped you and continued to clash with Michael - your friend growing even angrier from the slap. What right did Wesley have to fucking slap you? Michael already hated him, but the fact that he'd bullied you only intensified his hate - turning it into pure rage. The principal suddenly showed up and tore the two boys apart, causing you to feel relief as he demanded an explanation.

"What the hell is going on here?" He barked out loudly - his stern tone making the two boys stop scuffling.

"You over there, you over there, you stay there." The principal forced Michael and the other boy to separate before ordering you to stay where you were, the situation serious.

"He started it." The older boy tried to lie.

"Shut up!" The principal snapped at him as he wanted silence, annoyed when both boys glared towards him.

"Fuck you." Michael sweared at the principal and your mouth fell open, not thinking he'd be so rash.

"What did you say, son?" The principal replied, his voice dangerously soft.

"I said fuck you." Michael repeated viciously; his sharp tongue not being able to resist the challenge.

"Fuck me?" The principal couldn't believe his ears as an angry look crossed his face.

"Come here." He grabbed Michael's shoulder and went to haul him towards the principal's office coldly.

"My bag!"

"Grab it!"