I'll Be Good, I Will (Brahms Heelshire × Reader)

Prologue

First Person P.O.V - (Y/N)
(Edit: Every paragraph is begun with a ¶ symbol, and any chapter without the symbol they usually begin with a -. I am updating these slowly but surely. Also; word counts!)
Word count: 1515

¶  There is only so much running that one person could do at a time. Eventually, I had to run on a stamina. It didn't matter how fast I was, they were going to catch up to me if I didn't find somewhere to hide. Who they were, anybody might ask? They don't have a right to know. As a matter of fact, I shouldn't have a right to know. I made a horrible mistake. A mistake that might cost me my life, but for now, I just need to get away from this place. As far away as I possibly can.
¶  I've been walking through these trees for at least five minutes now, draping a heavy jacket over my shoulders and tugging it closely to my chest. I could tell that the wind was getting heavier, that the air was beginning to moisten. Any second now, any day, the rain would turn to snow. And then, I will have to search for more places to hide in. There isn't very many warm places for me to go, given that I don't know anybody here. I should have never made that deal. I could be back at home with the people that I love right now, but no. I just had to go and mess it up for myself.
¶  I can loathe my own being all I want, but it's not really going to get me anywhere. I need to stop thinking. I need to start thinking about something else. I'm looking down at the trees below my feet, watching us a snap beneath my shoes. There were holes in them. The air was sleeping through those holes, biting at my toes and through my socks. The occasional puddle from yesterday's late night rain, also sunk in through the bottoms of my soles. The forest here was bumpy, and I came to a stop to look up at the sky when I realized that I was much lighter here. I did not recall the trees losing all their leaves this early. There were still leaves stuck to the branches. But not these trees, they looked burnt.
¶  I kept moving, knowing that if I stop, the wind would wound me. I passed by the brutal scene of dead wood, and I kept moving forward, eventually finding a path of broken stone that hadn't been renewed. The vines draped above me, and I bumped into all of them. I nearly got my body wrapped up in all of it, stumbling forward and then landing on my elbows, and I groaned a little more than I should've. It hurt more than it should've, my joints aching agonizingly as I pushed them to their limit. I got up quickly so I didn't sit around and let the pain fester. I had to keep moving.
¶  Following the path, my head down, I came up to a fenced gate; and only then did I lift my head..my eyes widened slightly, gazing upon the large castle that stood before me. Vines grew along it's side, the windows of the place were musty and covered with dust, coating gray. The grass wasn't mowed, the blades reaching up my legs as I stepped through the failure of a gate as it fell apart as soon as I let it go. I didn't take any time walking across the path, picking up pace as I made my way up the steps and to the front door. Both of my hands reached for it, pushing through, it creaked loudly. It felt odd, the way the cold air seeped in after me as I stepped into the lukewarm entrance hall. I stumbled away, landing on my knees and my hands as the door lazily drew back to fall back into place. I got back up unto my feet and squinted my eyes as I gazed around.
¶  The light had difficulty going through the dusty windows, dimly covering the floor before me with sunlight that was slowly dying out for the day. It took a moment for me to recall my bearing, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. I walked forward, and I was met with the vague outline of stairs and a doorway to another room. I walked towards this room and froze in the doorway. Everything was dusty, unkept, aside from a chair. But for the most part I really couldn't tell what was clean or not, it being too dark for me to make out some of these things. I found my feet carrying my heavy body to a dirty looking couch that sat up close against the wall and I fell onto it.
¶  I wasn't thinking about the consequences when I passed out then and there.

First Person P.O.V - Him

¶  The front door opened. No one but me has been in my house for years. The only person who dares come up is the grocery delivery woman, and she wouldn't come inside, would she? No, no no. Nono ononono
NONONONONONONNONO
¶  I'm in danger, aren't I? Is there someone here to take me away?? Or could it possibly be that traitor Greta? I haven't seen her in two years. I don't think I could take it.
¶  My hands are dirty. They get dirty has my fingers drag on the walls, my feet feel heavy. I'm going towards the front door.
¶  Will I have to kill someone? I won't be afraid to.
...
¶  This person. They're.. Sleeping on my couch? ??? ?? ???? ?
¶  Who are you? I don't want guests. Get out of my house. getoutgetoutgetoutgetout--
-They're dirty. Just like I am. There's blood on the backs of their hands. On their knuckles. Had they just killed someone? They're pretty too--
¶  My hands pressed heavily against the wall as my face inched closer to the two way glass of a mirror, my eyes straining just to catch any details I can. I can hear them breathing, it is very shallow, almost labored. Are they injured? Did they come here seeking for help?? They look like a homeless person, weak, disgusting.. But I am a good boy, a good boy is a good person. I can be nice. I can prove it. I'll prove it right now.
¶ I'll prove Greta and that rotten grocery delivery man - Malcolm - that I can be a good person. I'm not a bad boy. I'm not.

First Person P.O.V - (Y/N)

¶  The morning rose with a vengeance, biting at my face as it not only reflected off the ground and into my face, but it landed on my eyes as well. I groaned as my arm reaches up and covers my eyes, but then I jumped at the feeling of something covering my body. I sat up quickly and my hands grabbed at the blanket. I look down, it was thick and warm and it certainly brought my comfort. I brought it back around my body when the cold sunk back against my form, causing my to shiver. I look around, trying to see if I can spot the difference. Then, I did.
¶  I tilted my head and it felt like my heart dropped right into the bottom of my stomach. A doll sat on the chair right outside of the doorway with a clipboard and paper sitting in it's lap. I couldn't move, my body frozen still with the abrupt fear that someone came in to this room, laid a blanket on me and then left that. Or did someone leave it at all? I wouldn't consider myself too strong of a believer of ghosts, I'm a bit iffy on it.. No, think logically! Who's sick joke is this?
¶  I got up on my feet, dragging the heavy blanket behind me before I slowly crouched down in front of the doll. Their eyes were stuck to me, staring deep into mine as our eye contact was ruthless. I dropped my gaze eventually, looking at the clipboard. The cursive was.. Elegant.

¶ "Hello, my name is Brahms Heelshire. You are in my house. I don't mind, I'm lonely. You can stay. Just take care of me, and you will always have a room here rent free. If you're nice to me I'll be nice to you."

¶  My fingers shivered and shook slightly as I picked up the board to read the rules. They were written by someone else, I can tell..

1. No Guests
2. Never Leave Brahms Alone
3. Save Meals in Freezer
4. Never Cover Brahms Face
5. Read a Bedtime Story
6. Play Music Loud
7. Clean the Traps
8. Only Malcolm Brings Deliveries
9. Brahms is Never to Leave
10. Kiss Goodnight

¶  Please clean the windows. Please.

¶  God this is creepy.. Alright. "You want me to be nice? Alright.. I gotcha.." I clear my throat as I slowly get myself to stand, my knees still aching below me. "...And you only had to write please once."