'Autophobia; the fear of being alone, and/or feeling lonely.'

Jonathan's words in one of his classes echo in through your head as you glance back at him, desperately reaching for you with one hand and the other clutching his mask.

The look in his bloodshot eyes is nothing short of terror-induced madness, but his hand stops a hair's breadth away from yours, trembling violently.

"You can't leave." He murmurs, almost whimpering.

But it's his fault you are.

You were a fellow teacher at Gotham University when you first met him, and in his eyes, the only person in the entire city who matched his grim sense of humour and demeanour. It wasn't long until your daily coffee after classes had turned into dates and you'd moved into his much larger house.

And it wasn't long until you stumbled into Jonathan's basement, and found his research shelves, buckets of orange fear toxin, and his mask.

It was the mask that really did it for you. You'd seen videos of the infamous Scarecrow from the news, and now that you knew his real identity, everything clicked.

From the way Jonathan always seemed to be putting on a facade, to the gleam in his eyes whenever he spoke about fear.

Because deep down, you knew that Professor Jonathan Crane had stopped existing a long time ago. Without even realising it, you'd been there to see it all unfold.

When you'd come up from the basement, holding the mask, he had froze in place, an unreadable expression on his face that looked suspiciously like fear.

Now, he just looks broken as his fingers twitch next to yours, almost as if he wants nothing more than to take your hand and never let go but is too scared that if he touches you, you'll just shatter into pieces like a broken mirror.

"Please don't leave."