The entire day you couldn't help but steal glances at the infamous killer. His arms were toned and you could see the muscle beneath the shirt. You couldn't stop the thoughts of how handsome he looked, especially now that he was clean. You didn't know it but he could sense your staring, his senses were higher than most people. The man decided to mess with you and looked at you catching your staring. This made you blush and look away back to the book in your hands. He smirked beneath the mask at your reaction.
He knew he was much older than his human and didn't quite understand your fascination with him. He is a killer with very little emotion after all. Maybe you were just curious about one of the most infamous killers he thought. Many people had wanted to do case studies on the nearly mute killer. He just refused each time, he hated those people that treated him like he was a lab rat. They always wanted to take his mask, he would kill anyone that dared try to take his precious mask. He found himself lost in thought about his past in the psychiatric wards.
You noticed that his muscles tensed and that he seemed to be staring at nothing. This worried you and so you walked over and tapped his shoulder gently wanting to pull him out of whatever flashbacks he was in. He shot up like a rocket and tightly grabbed the wrist of the hand that you tapped him with. He twisted it in a painful way still slightly lost in the flashbacks to being nothing more than a lab rat for dr. Loomis. They bit back a painful cry and looked up at him. "You're safe Michael. I would never hurt you, please let go." You said trying not to show the pain in your voice.
He dropped your wrist and stepped back trying to steady his breathing. Michael didn't mean to hurt you, he had been so lost in the memories that he thought you were dr. Loomis for a moment and so reacted accordingly. He cursed to himself in his thoughts, this was the second time he hurt you badly. The killer knew that your wrist would bruise heavily and possibly be sprained. They didn't blame him and tried to reassure him that it was all okay since it was an accident. They understood the ptsd that the man in front of them had. Most psychiatric hospitals don't actually help patients, and those that had committed horrible crimes like The Shape were treated with disgust often. The workers couldn't wrap their minds around what trauma could cause someone to commit murder. You on the other hand could.
It was close enough to dinner time that you decided it was time to cook up something. "Everything is okay. I'm going to make us dinner" You told him. He nodded in return. Once in the kitchen you started cooking chicken with butter and herbs like rosemary. Every now and then you had to hold back a wince of pain from your now bruised wrist. You didn't want him to see you being hurt. You gave him his plate and he quickly removed himself to his room. You wanted to know what your friend looked like under that mask but wouldn't betray that trust you had built. He stayed the rest of the night in his room and before you turned in for the night you couldn't help the nagging feeling that this was the calm before the inevitable storm.
