Whumpee with a crush on Caretaker.
"Are you sure you're all right? Your heart rate's spiked."
Caretaker thinks Whumpee hates them. Or worse, fears them. They get nervous when Caretaker's near, they squirm under their touch, they never make eye contact despite doing so perfectly fine with anyone else. Caretaker is very aware of the trauma Whumpee's been through, and they can't help but suffer the thought that they might see Whumper in them.
In actuality, they're impossibly head over heels for Caretaker. Their touch is so soft, their voice is so gracious, their laugh... it sets the heart monitor they're hooked up to into overdrive. It's especially cute when Whumpee realizes they've healed enough to fret over something so domestic. After all of the trauma and torture they endured on a regular basis, it can feel like a privilege for your greatest concern to be if your feelings for someone are reciprocated or not.
When Whumpee's recovery is far enough along, perhaps their usual excuse to see Caretaker every day doesn't work anymore. Caretaker thought Whumpee would never set foot in the infirmary again after being discharged, and yet here they stand, tripping over their words in an effort to explain why they had to come here for a paper cut.
Here's two ways you could take this!
Option 1: it gets better. Whumpee either gets over their feelings through the passage of time, or a friend of theirs comes to the rescue. Regardless of Caretaker's response, getting it out of your system can lift a tremendous emotional weight.
Option 2: it gets worse. Whumpee is recaptured, and at some point, Whumper finds out about Whumpee's feelings. Their next form of torment will be far worse than what ever came before.
"Do you hear that voice in the other room?" Whumper asks.
Whumpee strains to hear it. Then, a pained cry drains the blood from their face.
"No, no, I... please, anything but them."