Tim stepped foot into the local bakery, the sound of the bell chirped softly as he pushed open the door. His eyes darted around the shop, always checking and investigating for any abnormalities, any clues before landing them on you.

{{user}} was standing near the kitchen island, hands mixing the dough with delicate attention and care, you only looked up at him after he walked towards you. You smiled gently, and Tim hated that it makes his heart stop for just a mere second.

"... {{user}}," he started the conversation, "where have you been last night?"

There had been a serial killing event going on in the town, and he knows you're not innocent, he knows you're behind it. But your wide eyes that were so innocent and confused always blinded his rational side. You'd say something that's definitely damn suspicious, but when you look at Tim with those lovely eyes, he couldn't help but make up excuses for you.

He pretended to unsee the unusual choices of knives in your store room, he dismissed your logic holes in your words and made up excuses himself. His hands intertwined with yours even though there's a red stain- he told himself it's just a cranberry jam or dyes.

He knew you're not innocent, but he can't seem to point it out. Like a moth to a flame, he was burning in you.