*M*

As he walked down the dirt path of Camp Crystal lake, Michael couldn't help but get the feeling that he should go back. He kind of wanted to see Jason again. Finally he's seen someone who is like him, someone who kills like he does, someone who -hopefully- doesn't think he's crazy. Who is Myers to know if this would be the only time he would meet someone who actually would accept him for the things he does? He stopped in his tracks, taking a moment to analyze the decisions he had. He could go back and risk being turned away by Jason, just like everyone else has. Or, he could continue on his small journey that most likely leads to no where important.

Finally the psycho chose to go back to the main camp area. If Jason was going to be the only person on the planet that would accept him, then he was willing to make the sacrifice of trying. He may get rejected, but, it's all worth a shot, he supposed. Michael let out a shaky breath, his heart pounded violently against his chest. Okay, he's ready... He thought.

Michael swiftly made his way back towards Jason's cabin, half hoping he was there and also half hoping he wasn't there. God, he was so nervous. He hated this emotion, it's so new to him. His chest constricting, breathing became difficult, his heart felt like it was going to explode. He was so unused to the sensation of anxiety that he had to stop and take a moment's rest every once and a while. The sound of the leaves brushing softly against each other was calming, Myers payed close attention to the nature, hoping it could distract him from the anxiety that crawled under his skin.

Heavy, distant footsteps caused Michael to snap his attention back to reality. The footsteps drew closer and Myers was searching around for who they belonged to. To his left was a clearing that had small logs placed around a circle of stones. He assumed it was the main camp fire where counselors and campers alike would join together to toast marshmallows and sing camp songs. At his right was a group of trees grown close to each other, preventing the masked man to see the area where the footsteps were coming from. As he turned the corner towards the trees, he came face to face with... Jason! It was Jason! Michael couldn't help but feel excitement at the sight of the other killer . At this very moment, Myers appreciated his mask even more than usual. If he didn't have it on, he was sure Jason would have laughed at the large, goofy grin plastered on his face.

The larger male shifted on his feet, seemly uncomfortable. Michael didn't know what to do, he thought he was prepared, but clearly he wasn't. Finally, the other killer made the first move, his large hands making soft movements, as if he was scared that he might scare Michael away.

/...I didn't get a chance to ask you your name./ Was what he signed. /I'm sorry if I came off as rude./ Michael didn't really know how to respond to the last part. Jason's a killer, why would he care about being rude? Then again, why did Michael care so much about befriending the other?

/Michael.../ The smaller male signed back. /And it's fine. I think I was the rude one anyway, barging into your home like that. I didn't think anyone lived there. My apologies./ Michael gave Jason a warm smile, even though he couldn't see it from under the mask. They sat in silence for a moment, until Jason quickly offered;

/Would you like to come back to my cabin? Maybe?/ Jason laughed an airy laugh. Michael nodded his head a bit too enthusiastically, moving to stand beside the other male. Jason's eyes lit up, he gladly lead the man in the mechanic suit back to his home.

The anxiety that threatened Myers' lungs was quickly replaced with joy. He doesn't know Jason's exact thoughts on him, but at least he doesn't seem to hate him! Michael glanced over at Jason, the undead killer had an almost unnoticeable bounce in his step, was he happy too? A quiet noise escaped Jason's mouth, almost like an excited squeal. Michael snickered, causing Jason to look at him, a questioned look in his eyes.

/Nothing./ He signed, he assumed Jason didn't realize he even made a noise. Michael thought it was adorable.

*J*

After a few minutes of an awkwardly, silent walk with the smaller killer, they eventually reached Jason's cabin. Jason almost bounced with excitement as he opened his door. The two entered the cabin and Jason shut the door tightly behind them. Michael stood staring at his boots, possibly contemplating if he was required to take them off. Jason lightly tapped his shoulder.

/You can leave them on./ He signed. Michael looked up at him with a blank stare. He pointed to the small mans' feet. /Your boots? You can leave them on./ Michael nodded quickly, tugging the footwear off and setting them neatly by the door.

Jason nodded his head at the couch, hoping Michael would understand that he wanted him to sit down. Thankfully, he did, the smaller killer took a set on the far side of his couch. It wasn't the prettiest thing, but Jason thought it was comfortable enough. He claimed his spot beside Michael, adjusting his body so he was facing the other. At first he just stared at him, the longer he kept his eyes on him the more his heart longed to care for the man in front of him. Michael looked up at Jason, his chocolate brown eyes fixated on him.

/So, what brings you to Camp Crystal?/ Jason signed to the other. Michael sighed and closed his eyes for a second before responding.

/I was being transferred to another mental institute. But the vehicle crashed, probably because the drivers were complete idiots./ The psycho signed, seemingly frustrated. Jason was curious, he wanted to know more.

/Mental institute?/ He asked. Michael didn't seem to interested in explaining, but he did anyway.

/Yes. When I was 6 years old I killed my older sister./ He explained. /So a bunch'a doctors put me away./ Jason intently listened to Michael as he went on about his home town, the mental institute he was put in, his annoying psychiatrist, and his little sister, Laurie Strode, who he was so motivated to hunt down. Michael's hands moved so quickly that it was getting difficult for Jason to keep up, but he tried his best, he didn't want to interrupt the little psycho during his rant.

Michael finally finished his ranting, he seemed to search Jason's eyes for any sign that he might be second-guessing asking anything. Jason nodded his head slowly, he understood that sudden blow of blood lust, the feeling that you just need to hurt someone. He often was out killing people, sometimes because he wanted to, but most of the time because mom told him too. Sometimes he got a rush of joy from hearing the blood curdling screams of his victims. But other times... It kept him awake at night. He almost felt guilty.

/What about you? Why are you here?/ Michael signed. Jason tapped his feet on the hardwood floor of the cabin, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

/I used to go to camp here when I was little.../ He started. Michael shifted in his seat, possibly to get more comfortable for the story to come. /All the other kids would make fun of me because I was... Different... I'm not very pleasant to look at../ Jason continued to talk about how he wasn't a very strong swimmer, and how the other boys pushed him into the lake. He had drowned that day. His mother was furious that no counselors were paying attention to the kids, they could have prevented all of this. Pamela took it upon herself to get rid of all the counselors at Camp Crystal... But one of them killed her. Then Jason came back to continue what she had started..

Michael stared at him, a look of sympathy in his eyes.

/God, that's... Horrible.. I'm so sorry.../ The shorter of the two signed. /If I was there I would have stuck up for you.. I mean, I'm sure you aren't that bad looking. Even if you are, that wouldn't matter. You're a kind man and that makes up for anything and everything./ Jason didn't know what to do. The words Michael signed to him made him feel so very special, even if he's heard something like it about a hundred times from his mother. It coming from Michael meant everything to him, the other killer was clearly trying his hardest to make him feel better. Voorhees had the slight feeling that Michael actually felt sympathy for him instead of pity like his mother did, or anyone did, for the matter.

The psycho gently turned Jason's head so he was looking back at him again.

/And I'm sure you're absolutely beautiful under your mask../ He signed. Jason's heart fluttered. He

shook his head.

/I'm not.. Really../ Jason's hands moved slowly. He wasn't at all "good looking", in his opinion, and in everyone else's opinions.

/Then show me, so I can confirm it./ Michael reached out towards Jason's face, his soft hands brushing against his cheek as he tried to lift the hockey mask away. Jason's hand shot up and firmly held Michael's wrist. He pushed his hand away from him, and shook his head again.

"No..." Jason said, his deep voice scratchy and coarse from the lack of use. Michael's body language turned to something sad. His shoulders slightly more hunched and his free hand was laying in his lap, gripping the kitchen knife he used. Jason released the other's hand, letting in drop and hit the couch. Neither boy said or signed anything, they just sat in even more awkward silence, Jason's eyes fixated on a spot on the floor.

Voorhees heard Michael shift in his seat again, then felt two arms wrap around his chest in a hug. His eyes widened and his heart started beating out of control.

"Sorry.." He heard Michael say, his voice was muffled from the mask, as well as scratchy like his own. Jason carefully went to grab onto one of Michael's hands, but he moved away before he could.

The sun was setting, and Jason figured he didn't want Michael out in the dark on his own, so he let Michael stay in his cabin with him. He showed the other killer to the spare bedroom, the walls were a light brown wood that was rotted in a few spots like the outside of the cabin was. The bed was noisy when Michael sat on it, but that's probably because nobody has slept on it in a while. Jason retreated to his own room, slipping into cozy clothes that he would sleep in, and tucking himself into his own bed. His mother whispered good night to him in his head, and the two killers would soon be overcome by sleep.

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