Chapter Text
Peter Dunbar.
That was a name he left behind the day his darl- friend perished. His friend, whom he held so close to him, vanished without so much as a note. He thought everything was fine, that their relationship could bloom peacefully into love, and yet it was cut short into a friendship.
Sarah... He loathed her with a passion now... The wretch who cut his friend to pieces, literally and figuratively... Hatred drove him to call the cops, to let her rot in prison despite their mother's yelling at him. It's why he changed towns, changed careers, and changed in appearance.
Funny how his hair started growing again after he locked his own sister up.
Michael King... that's his new name... It's what his friend used to call him all the time, MC for short... He never understood why they insisted on it, but who was he to object? He went back to wearing glasses for the same reason, round ones.
They had liked that style on him.
Michael found a small town hours away from the city that brought back bad memories. It was close to the cabin he was going to bring them when the time was right. Guess he'd never get to use it for its original purpose now...
He also found a new job as a barista. Maybe it was to feel closer to them, or maybe it was to just give himself a change of pace... He didn't know. If anything, it was mostly fine, still as shitty as his old place of residence, but at least his boss was understanding. He did his best to curb his own sarcasm, but he could notice the slight expressions of his burly, almost fatherly employer that told him to keep it in.
He liked that man... so nice to him. Treating him almost like a son, helping him with his pet snake, Rat.
MC adjusted quickly, feeling more at ease in the town despite the drunkards and assholes that would occasionally come in to kick up a fuss and try to flirt with his coworker.
Carol was nice, feeling more like a sister than the murderer he locked up... He liked her a lot in that regard. So helpful and attentive. She made him start carrying band aids in his pockets from how often he'd burn himself on the espresso machine that seemed to hate his guts. She'd check up on him and make sure he was eating...
He started to work out in his free time. Not enough to bulk up, but enough to make a difference in his lanky frame. Toothpick limbs becoming more defined with proper movement, bony torso filling out from proper eating. He stopped smoking as much, noting that Carol was asthmatic and not wanting to put her in the hospital. They took care of one another, keeping each other safe. Hell, he let her braid his hair when it got long enough, even if he looked not too different from when he was a teen.
He liked having hair, knowing how to actually take care of it.
Then, Carol had said she got a second job. Michael thought nothing of it at first, deeming it understandable given that she lived in an apartment.
He'd seen it a few times when he was invited over, shared it with a roommate who may or may not be a swinger. He didn't like her, but he stayed cordial, getting slightly uncomfortable with how casual she was when walking about nude.
However, Carol then went missing, which put MC into a wreck. His life was repeating, but he was determined to find her again and bring her back alive. Despite the rumors that most of the women who disappeared had run off with lovers, he didn't believe it for a second. He spent his spare time looking for her when he heard shouting.
"Go back to the hell tent you crawled out from, bastard freak-!"
Michael rounded the corner, seeing a tall figure in red on the floor, with a bruised cheek. Flyers to the circus, which they seemed to belong to, had been scattered from them being hit by a drunkard. One MC knew quite well, since they were the same fat guy who kept on hitting on Carol when she was working.
"Oi," He called out, walking over with his usual stride, having taken off his glasses. He knew his height and look without glasses normally scared people off... Maybe that's why they told him to get round glasses... "It's one thing that you hit on my coworker while she was around... now you're off beating up a guy who's just handin' out flyers..?" MC made his voice rough, his eyes narrowed as he stood in front of the red-dressed figure on the floor.
The drunkard stammered before trying to swing at him, causing MC to bend backward out of the hit and kick the fatso in the stomach. Could he have sent the guy flying? Yes. Did he want to beat the shit out of the guy? Oh absolutely. But did he curb his strength so as not to spook off the entertainer he was protecting? Begrudgingly, yes...
He still made the drunk stagger away before the walking tub of lard got dragged off by the ear. MC still couldn't believe the guy was married.
Thought they'd get a divorce after getting to know Karen, but apparently she runs her house like the navy...
Anyway...
Michael righted himself before turning around, looking down at the red clown. He soon crouched down, putting his glasses back on and studying the bruise. "Hmm... that looks bad, bud..." he murmured before pulling out a bandaid, offering it to the silent circus member. They accepted it easily, letting him pull the other upright. He noted that 'Red', as he'd start to refer to him, was about the same height as him. Maybe an inch taller, but MC couldn't tell at the moment due to Red's jester hat.
They stared at one another for a long moment before Michael figured he'd need to clock in to his job. He patted Red on the shoulder, "I gotta get back to work, but I'll see you about, bud." The other nodded, letting him go, but MC could tell the other was staring after him.
He figured it was just to be cautious... He would've done the same in the silent clown's shoes.