Purple Rain (Vincent X Reader)

Family

I nervously walked up to the door, bag in hand, and gave three solid knocks.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The door quickly opened, and I was greeted by the purple man himself. He hastily stepped aside, seemingly agitated by something.

"Come in, come in."

He led me to the couch and sat me down.

"What happened, Love?" He spoke, embracing me in a loving hug, rubbing my back.

I began to let out the tears I held in. 

"They hurt me, and compared me to my brother."

"Why does that bother you so much?" He carefully questioned. 

"I killed him."

His hand stopped for a moment. I swear I could feel a smile flash over his face, but I blew it off, assuming I was just imagining things.

"How?"

I drew in a long, hard breath and laid back on the couch.

"I was seventeen. My mother and father were fighting in the car on our way to our family camping trip. My brother and I sat in the back seat. I yelled at them to stop fighting in front of the kid. My father turned around to hit me and swerved to the other side of the road. He then heard a semi-truck coming, turned to the side, and the backside of the car was hit. My brother died on impact, my father broke his arm, and I had severe spinal injuries. Luckily nothing to the nerve. I was sent to therapy until my twentieth birthday. I'm turning twenty-one this year." I began to break in the last half. My voice audibly cracking.

"Darling, that's not your fault" He sympathetically said.

"How? If I just kept my mouth shut it never would've happened. Even my parents blame me."

"Its. Not. Your. Fault." He sternly said.

"Then who's fault is it?!" I cried.

"Your father's." His voice calmed as his sternness was clearly not getting through to me.

I stopped. No one had ever told me that. But it made sense. Maybe it wasn't my fault? Maybe this was another one of their tricks?

"Got you there, didn't I?" He chuckled.

I nodded. "I've never thought of it like that before."

"If he didn't turn around your brother could still be alive. It's his fault for being a garbage person and hurting his children. I would've never hurt my kids."

I was shocked at that statement. Vincent had kids? How old was he? He didn't look over 24.

"You alright, Love?" He worriedly said.

"You had kids?"

"Yes, when I was eighteen. One of them died, the other two are with their mother."

I was completely speechless. Maybe he was responsible after all.

" How old are they?"

"One was five when he died, two years ago, the other is ten, and my sweet little girl is eight." He sighed, seemingly distraught.

I hugged him, tight. "I'm so sorry, Vinny... How did it happen?"

"It's my eldest son's fault along with mine. I insisted on having his birthday at Fredbear's, I had work that day and that was the only way I could watch him. I left to help in the backroom and then I heard screams. I rushed out to the party room and he was dead in Fredbear's mouth. My son had thrown my poor boy into his mouth. He was dead, and it was our fault." He began to tear up. 

I hugged him tighter. "I'm so sorry Vinny. Why are they with their mother?"

"She doesn't trust me anymore. She blames me since she wasn't there. She didn't believe me when I said that my son, Michael, did it. I don't blame her at all. It is my fault. I was selfish. That's why I stepped down from my job. Fredbear's shortly closed after, just a week before Freddy Fazbear's opened."

I just sat there and hugged him for a moment before shyly asking, "How old are you and your ex?"

"I'm thirty, she's twenty-eight."

I quickly tried to lighten the mood as I saw an opening to, "So you are into younger women like me." I giggled.

"I guess so." He smiled.

It worked, he was happy again.

We took a moment, just looking into each other's eyes. I was first to break the silence.

"We should get to bed."

"Yeah, I'll show you to your room." He gestured for me to follow him. I complied.

The rest of the night was calm, something I haven't experienced in a long time. I felt at home, at peace. He made me feel comfortable, and couldn't help but wish I was in his room with him. I yearned for his warm embrace again. He made me happy and feel understood.

I liked him.