Murderface didn't particularly have a very strong sense of self to begin with.

Well, he knew who he was, sure. He knew he was a pit of neverending rage and suffering that would one day, fingers crossed, die- he knew exactly who he was, he just wasn't entirely comfortable with it.

What made him even more uncomfortable was when Knubbler introduced a pianist to the band for some symphonic elements that Skwissgar wanted for a song- on singular song and then you'd be gone so therefore you weren't anything to worry about minus you taking food. And, yet, you pissed him off beyond what he thought was possible.

So much so the feeling continued after practice. And at night. And in the mornings.

You were just so clean and put together- well not really, you did have that little bit of scruff and you were so dark around your eyes but you smelled so good and your hands were so nice so surely- no.

He wondered briefly if any of the band noticed him slamming his head against any hard surface whenever he thought about you, he didn't think so and it did the job.

Even so, he found himself sabotaging the recording time and time again like something had possessed him- there wasn't even anything wrong with your playing yet you kept having to come back to do retakes because of background noise of him that they couldn't edit out- and still he felt that burning seething yearning in his chest.

You were in the studio with your electric keyboard, playing your part for the tenth time that day- this symphonic song taking a good week to record already- as he watched with the rest of the band in the controls room. Haphazardly and totally not on purpose, he yawned with a stretch and pressed his elbow right on the 'stop recording' button, eliciting a small groan from Knubbler.

"Shit, sorry, that was totally my bad, sorry everyone. My bad." Murderface announced as he lifted his hands up apologetically.

Knubbler turned on the intercom to tell you it has stopped recording and to take five before getting up himself to wander off along with the rest of the band to go find food, Murderface stood too but stopped when he looked back through the glass to the recording studio.