Michael stared into Chas' pleading eyes, rejecting her would definitely be the end of her will and who was he to do that? A gruff growl escaped his mouth, extremely guttural, he nodded; accepting the offer of staying... he'd fallen for her, right?
His nonchalant state gave him the resemblance of a docile, curious animal; his eyes swirling with inquisitive emotions. Chas, on the other hand, had an undeniably strong emotion of fear, fear of loss. She was sitting next to Michael, whom was elapsed in his own trail of thoughts. She stared at him, also trying to figure out his complexities.
Why did I fall for him? Why did I ever even attempt to... I don't even know, why the fuck am I still alive; fuck everyone, argh! Chas cringed, Michael taking note, nudging her, a questionable look on his face. "I'm fine, just thinking." Chas murmured, her brow knotted in the centre of her forehead, "It's getting late, Michael." she ushered herself to say, wearily getting back off, she didn't want to provoke Michael in anyway possible.
The Shape was just as confused and dazed as Chas, he'd willingly become her companion, what the fuck was happening... to him. Fucking Hell, he can't do this, but her childlike innocence burned him. She was being manipulative without herself even knowing, at all.
Michael watched her, she was slim, animated... vivacious even. The silky nightgown she was in appealed to her format, dainty, but alluring. Like a pale, ivory butterfly, she drifted throughout the world like a hurt ghost. No one even considered her when she walked throughout Haddonfield's streets, no one took a second glance at her, no smiles, no nothing; God Damn, she must feel so lonely.
Michael knew all too well what loneliness was like, he was caved and concealed behind whitewashed walls all his waking life. Perhaps her mind was represented as the walls and him the emotions; compressed into insanity that resembled the tiny slits on her wrists. Michael slid up behind Chas, she was unaware of him watching her cry into the mirror, until her eyes caught glance of his reflection, "Michael! I'm sorry..." Chas backed up, stopped short by the wall.
The Shape placed a cold, calloused and burnt hand on her blotched, whitish cheeks, trailing ever so gently down to her lips. Chas was tense, he was touching her, but not aggressively...he was acting that of like a lover, or partner. She liked it. She liked his touch. A small giggle escaped her lips, softened eyes staring into malicious blackness of eyes, apparently, these were the Devil's eyes.
Michael braced up at her laughter, it was so foreign, so wrong. He was used to screams of horror, not laughter and happiness. Yet, it was much better, much better than hearing hopeless pleas for release.
Chas wrapped her hands around his torso, "Why do I like you so much..." she blurted, feeling herself convulse at his strong, iron grasp around her own etherealy small waist.
"There's so much more to you, they just don't understand you..."
HAI! I was off for a long fokin time, apologies, if there's a readers out there!disclaimer: I don't own Halloween, or Michael Myers, just Chas.