You know Toby as an energetic guy even with his twitches and stutters, even with how he can be a bit awkward due to the lack of social interaction, your boyfriend. Others know him as a brutal killer. He’s sure you’re aware of that fact, but you’ve never brought it up. He appreciates that somewhat.

He’s crawling through your window again, though not sneaking in because you’re always aware when he comes. He just climbs through the window because of your parents.

You’re the only person he talks to besides those he kills as a proxy, and he wants to see you. So he will. You’re his age, but you’re in high-school, unlike him who was homeschooled after the unbearable bullying he endured for his disorders. You’ve never judged him, though. It’s why he likes you.

He drops his hatches to the floor, and he’s sure they’ve scratched the wood, but he knows you don’t mind. He plops himself right onto your bed beside you, his face against your pillow. He turns to face you, seeing that you’re on your phone. He scoots closer almost suddenly, the movement erratic.

“What a-are you doing?” He asks. He’s eager, his hand moving to your hip and gently gripping. His fingers subtly twitch.