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Kory basked in the final waves of afterglow rolling off him when Brendan jumped off the bed and put back his underwear.
"Gonna grab some water, you want something?" The warm lights of the desk lamp licked at every inch of his tall and muscled body, mingling with the deep blue shadows of the room. Kory felt a twitch of arousal, but he was way too beat up for it to turn into anything else.
"Bring me the mango juice," Kory yawned as he stretched his body over the bed.
"Coming right up," Brendan lowered and gave him a quick kiss on his stubbled cheek. Kory turned his head to catch his lips for good second before his boyfriend backed away with a wide grin and sauntered to the door. It creaked open, and Brendan watched him over one wide shoulder, "Get those bones solid again, I'm sure you don't want to make yourself that easy for the Boogeyman."
Kory snickered, giving him the finger, "Worry about yourself, you're the one going downstairs half-naked."
"Dunno, maybe he'll like what he sees." Brendan winked and stepped out of the room."I'll be back," he teased with an overly ominous tone while he let the door close slowly until the latch clicked.
Kory lowered his offending hand and smiled to himself. God, what a dork. Brendan sure was enjoying himself this night. After all, it was Halloween night at the humble town of Haddonfield.
Years have passed since that hellish night, since Michael Myers dissapeared after murdering those innocent teens, not a single trace of his existence left except from the broken families and traumatized victims that lived to tell the story. The 31th of October became a day of mourning after that, every citizen secured themselves in their houses and prayed to God that the Boogeyman wouldn't come for them. And he hadn't.
Soon enough all fear faded from their minds. Parents finally allowed their kids to go trick-or-treating again with big smiles on their chubby faces and bags full of candy. For the ones Kory's age, however, Halloween night held a forbidden appeal. Specially for the couples.
They hadn't been the exception. Earlier that night Brendan very enthusiastically pounced Kory on his bed, dressed with those fear-inspiring navy blue mechanic overalls tight over his huge form and a white, stoic Shatner mask that he made all by himself in secret. Thank God he was smart enough to only sneak on Kory dressed like that, or else he feared his dumb boyfriend would have met the same destiny as that poor kid that had been caught on the crossfire in the wrong place and wrong time—and wrong costume—that Halloween night.
Kory rolled over the bed, the already messy sheets tangled around his naked body. He peeked over at the nightstand. Brendan sure was taking his sweet time with those glasses. He tuned in and catched the subtlest of noises coming from downstairs. Probably Brendan was just messing around in the kitchen.
Minutes passed and Kory decided that if Brendan wasn't going to bring his ass back to bed, then he will take matters into his own hands. He huffed as he sat on the bed, a slight grimace at the pain that shot right across his lower back. Kory went to his closet and pulled some grey pajama pants that hung low over his hips. He thought about putting on a shirt, but decided against until later after he showered.
He walked outside the bedroom. All the lights were off, the whole house enveloped in blue shadows. The cold air that came from an open window somewhere sent shivers across his body. He became aware of how sticky he felt, sweat plastered all over his body, the hairs on his chest stuck against the skin.
"Dude, what's taking so long?" he called out loud while going down the stairs. Once his feet creaked against the wooden floor, Kory realized something.
It was too quiet.
All of the small noises he heard were gone. Only the distant trick-or-treating outside reached his ears.
"Brendan? Where the hell is my juice?" he called him again, huffing when that had gone ignored as well.
Another thing he noticed a few steps into the living room was that the whole house was dark. Again, not a surprise, he was the one who was always turning them off. But when he saw that even the kitchen remained enveloped in thick shadows, his heart thumped harshly against his ribs, his mouth suddenly too dry.
Kory turned his hands into fists. He won't be taking the bait.
"Just wait when I catch you, dumbass." Kory mumbled to himself as he stomped to the kitchen.
Food cabinets were perfectly positioned in multiple rows across the walls, a counter covered with a colorful array of spices. The sink and dishwasher was a few steps forward, a large window above them allowing Kory to view the utter stillness of the night. It was so dark outside that Kory could see his own reflection, like a murky mirror.
Between the dark cobalt shadows Kory noticed the thinnest line of yellow light extending itself over the floor and across the food cabinets. The fridge's door was slightly ajar, the cold escaping its insides. Kory cursed and closed it with a kick that rattled the whole thing. He grimaced.
His hands felt too clammy, new droplets of sweat formed against his brow, the thick hair of his mullet sticking to his nape. A shaky breath escaped his lips. This is complete bullshit. The date is getting to your head. Don't forget the idiot scared the shit out of you with that silly costume after you arrived home.
Kory turned around and faced the counter. On top of it were positioned two glasses. One of water, another of mango juice. Untouched.
The air on his lungs turned heavy. Small droplets of condensation rolled over the glass.
"Brendan?" Kory called out, his voice too small.
Hands wrapped around his waist.
A scream lodged on his throat. Kory almost vomited his heart out. Then he felt a wide chest pressed against his naked back, a familiar fabric against it—albeit a tad rougher, it must have been the wrinkles when they threw it over the floor.
Kory closed his eyes and cursed out loud, the fear rolling off his body in a laugh that scratched his throat.
"Brendan, for fuck's sake, what's your fucking problem?" he hit his boyfriend with his elbow. Brendan didn't flinch. Not even a huff or a laugh. Only deep breaths that sounded muffled.
It didn't matter. With his chest now warm, Kory closed his eyes and reclined against that wide chest, enveloping the hands around him with his own.
Hands that were too big. Brendan had callouses over his fingers—perks of being a construction worker—but they normally didn't feel this rough. Focusing over the tiny details, Kory was also able to feel something else in those hands.
After he caressed them, they left a sticky, lukewarm substance over his own. Kory wrinkled his nose when a metallic smell wafted into his nose. He left one of Brendan's hands and opened his eyes, brought the hand close to his face.
It was covered in a black substance. With the barest hint of the streetlights from outside, Kory catched a bright red reflection over it.
Kory opened his mouth but no words came out. The hands on his waist tightened, punching the breath out of him. In his pain, Kory's neck spun to the side, right towards the dark window.
He screamed.
The black mirror in front of him reflected back something that should not have been real.
A white, expressionless face; covered in blood and dirt. With two holes for eyes, swirling in shadows deeper than in the darkest corners in the house.
The Boogeyman himself.
The grip around his waist turned beyond painful and Kory swore he felt his organs mush inside his body. God knows how it happened, perhaps the adrenaline kicking in, the horror or pure instinct, but he used the counter to push himself backwards with all of his screaming strength.
Michael Myers bashed against the fridge, his hands twitched, enough to give Kory the opportunity to break from his grasp.
Everything became a blur. His vision swirled. The sides of his waist felt sticky and disgusting and God was it blood? It was blood, he repeated to himself over and over again as he ran to the front door and escape into the night.
Kory jerked himself back. The motion was so sudden and violent that he fell on his ass.
Right at the door was a huge shape that hadn't been there when he walked down the stairs a few minutes ago.
It reminded Kory of the fake screaming skeleton that hung from the other side of the door, a fun decoration that he and Brendan had chosen a few days back. Only that this wasn't that. Not at all.
Brendan's half naked body hung from the entrance door. A wide and long kitchen knife cleaved into his chest, so deep that it nailed him to the wood. His toes barely touched the floor. Blood dripped down, the noise distressingly echoing all inside the house. Kory couldn't see his face, Brendan's head covered in that cheap mask he had used when scaring him. Unlike with Michael, and despite the darkness, Kory could see inside the holes in the eyes.
Brendan stared at nothing with eyes perpetually frozen in horror.
Static filled his ears, a loud and high noise that stung his ears. His throat felt like being teared apart with a fork when he realized the painful noise were his own screams.
How could any of this be real?
Didn't anyone hear him?
Why them?
God wouldn't answer any of those questions.
He had abandoned them at the whim of the Devil himself.
A hand grabbed his hair.
Kory's mouth opened wide in agony, but no noise came out of his throat aside from choked out gasps. Michael Myers yanked his head back, sending a sharp jolt of pain across his scalp.
Kory stared with wide, glassy eyes at the Devil before him.
Michael observed him with his head slightly tilted. Kory's shaky hands clutched at the harsh hands that tore at his hair, desperately trying to ease the pain. Tears welled up his eyes, running in thick rivulets over his cheeks.
Kory gawked at the impossible figure behind him and a bright glint catched his eyes. He shivered and sobbed when he recognized the sharp edge of a knife, getting closer and closer to him. Kory's eyes strained when he tried to see the knife approaching his exposed neck.
"Please, oh God, please just leave me alone—"
The point of the blade nicked against his tan flesh and Kory quivered. His eyes returned to Michael. He stared at the empty holes inside the mask, a desperate attempt to reach the eyes that belonged to the man. Because he was a man, right? Maybe he would feel pity for him, maybe he would spare him—
Kory catched a glimpse of his eyes.
His body sagged. He still grasped the hand bunched in his hair, but all the fight had left it. Perhaps it was his body begging for comfort, any kind of contact, a dying man searching for the hand of his loved one after he realized with cruel certainty that he was about to die.
The knife pressed harsher against his flesh. His eyes widened.
The blade sharply moved across his bared throat. Kory felt his breath unnaturally escape from his body. His chest was splashed in warmth that trickled below his stomach. Michael pulled his head further back, widening the wide gash on his throat, an endless flow of blood that sputtered over his naked chest down the floor.
Michael's pale face turned blurry. The hand left his hair and without any strength left to support himself, Kory slumped over the floor, limbs stretched out.
Sirens echoed like a distant memory. He felt too cold. Maybe he should have put on a shirt.
His eyes lost focus, and as he died, all he could hear were the deep breaths of Evil vibrating across every home and corner in Haddonfield.