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

8

First Person P.O.V - (Y/N)
Warning: Bath time

-Morning came, and I had walked into Brahms' room quietly. The man was still asleep, barely making any sound other than the breathing on the other side of his mask. It must be moist in there, irritating for him skin. But he still wears it, even while he sleeps, and it makes me wonder if he's ever taken it off.
-At this point I've convinced myself that it's a prosthetic, made incorrectly given actual prosthetic masks have an opening for the mouth and other places. But I can imagine that with how adamant he is about the mask that he's got some heavy insecurities, and I have to wonder what he looks like. But regardless, right now, he looks peaceful. His body no longer as tense as it usually is, and I'm finally getting the chance to see what it looks like. I had no idea how afraid of me he was, like I was going to turn around and make him regret keeping me alive at any second. I could do something now, leave him, take him out in his sleep, but I wouldn't have the heart to do either. Neither do I want to, really.
-I slowly reach over, my fingers gripping his shoulder and shaking him slightly. He jumped s little before turning to look up at me, eyes wide, and I put on the gentlest smile I can.
-"Good morning Brahms, it's time to wake up." He sits up slowly, eyes staring daggers into me as my hand stays on his arm as he does. "Did you sleep well?"
-He nods slowly, looking down at my hand before he takes it in his own. He drops his legs out from under the covers, socked feet padding against the floor before he stands up. I take the courtesy of making his bed back up for him afterwards, and I turn to him once finished tucking in the blanket. He's looking down at me, staring at my face with a look I couldn't quite make out.
-"Are you ready for breakfast, Brahms?" I ask, and he nods. "Alright, to the kitchen then. C'mon."
-He quickly takes my hand as I'm passing by him, holding it tight in his own. At this point I expected it, and I don't mind as much as I did at first. I hold his hand back, and I can feel his eyes on me.
-"Are you scared of me?" He asks suddenly, and I look up at him at that question.
-"..Yeah." I am honest, of course, preferring to be so rather than lie. I've already done enough lying and all of that got me down in deep. "But you promised not to hurt me, so I'm taking your word for it."
-"Don't be scared of me." He spoke as if his words would automatically be able to change my mind.
-"I'll try not to be." I nod, looking back forward instead of at him. "But I did watch you kill two people that I've known since highschool."
-"But they--"
-"Were trying to kill me, I know. Thank you for keeping me safe, but still. I know what you're capable of, and killing people didn't really prove as the best first impression." Neither does making me take care of a doll and playing paranormal games with me, but at this point it's old news. "I don't think you understand how scary it is when someone dies, and how scary it makes you. It's horrible to kill people Brahms."
-He stops abruptly, and I stop with him, our arms stretched a bit between us by the time I turn around to look at him. He's just staring at me, and I furrow my brows in confusion. Then he speaks.
-"Horrible?" His voice is just above a whisper. "You think I'm bad??"
-"I think what you did was bad." I nod. "I'm hoping that you don't ever do it again. I can't trust someone who just.. Kills people and doesn't realize how bad it is."
-With that mention, he tenses up, his grip on my hand tightening. He looks down for a moment before he continues walking, at first going past me before I begin to follow after. It makes me wonder, with that kind of apathy and his methods of removing bodies, he's got to be a serial killer of some kind, right? And here I am, living with him. I can chalk it up to the idea that every time he's killed someone it's been to protect himself or someone else like he had done for me, but if that were true why wasn't anyone else here? My curiosity gets the better of me.
-"How many other people have you killed Brahms?" He hums, nearly like a whine like he doesn't want to answer my question. "Brahms--"
-"No." He states simply, looking back at me with a glance before we make it to the kitchen. He let's go of my hand to sit down at the dining chair, and then he crosses his arms tightly over his chest. "Breakfast."
-I look at him, scanning his body language as best I can until I notice that he won't look at me. That's enough to tell me that he's killed enough people for me to be mad about it. For me to not want to be around.
-I move towards the fridge and I open it up, reaching inside for whatever ingredients. I can tell he's not going to help with cooking this time around, having made him uncomfortable. I quickly whipped something up and I set his plate in front of him, and he looks down at it, before looking at me as I sat down in the chair furthest from him. We don't talk, and I certainly don't look at him, eating my breakfast. Eventually I hear him eating his own, his mask just barely above his chin. When I had finished my meal, I waited for him to, and as he did I took his plate and brought it to the sink.
-The hot water was almost burning my hands as I scrubbed the plate off with the sponge, keeping my breath in my chest and being very shallow about it. If I hadn't been soft with my breathing, I would've missed the slight shift of a chair behind me as Brahms gets up, his footsteps completely silent as he steps behind me. I tense as his arms wrap around my body, hugging my arms to my sides, my hands set the plates down in the sink carefully. I felt uncomfortable, not wanting to be touched by him given the new, yet explicit, knowledge.
-"Brahms, I need to wash the dishes." I tell him, and all he does is hug tighter. "I don't want to be touched Brahms. I'm not in the mood. Get off of me." I attempt to push him off, and he only loosens slightly, but he's strong about it still. "Brahms."
-He hums, his face pressing into my head. I can tell he wants some sort of comfort, given the recent com we had, but I can't give him that. I just want him off right now, to wrap my head around the idea of living with a serial killer that seems to be obsessed with me. I don't even know if I can live here for very long knowing these things.
-"Brahms!" I raise my voice, pushing him back a little harshly, and this gets him off of me. I look up at him, a bit of surprise in his eyes as he looks down at mine. "I give you only a few rules and you can't follow them? I've managed to follow all of yours. I just want my personal space."
-He shifts back a little, resting his weight on one foot to another, looking antsy. He doesn't look like he knows what to do, looking away from me and looking around the room. A tension builds, and I turn away, going back to wash the dishes in attempts to just leave the topic. Of course, this doesn't keep me out too long, and I flinch when he abruptly grabs a plate off the drying rack and throws it at the wall across the room.
-I look over my shoulder, looking at it, and he's looking at me as if expecting a reaction that will help him get his way. I look at him, raising my brows. "That wasn't my plate." I state simply. "If you wanna break your own things, fine. But I'm not cleaning up your messes."
-He cocks his head to the side, a look of actual disbelief in his eyes. I could tell that not only by this manor, but by his current brat attitude that he's spoiled. He doesn't seem to understand me right now, and I can tell that much by the way he tales the plate I'm washing out of my hand and tosses it to the floor, snapping it in half. I press my lips together, before I hand him the second one.
-"Wanna break this one too?" I wave it around, and he just glances at it, before looking at me. "They're not mine. I don't have anything to lose, neither. If you're gonna kill me now because you didn't get the hug that you wanted, then I honestly don't care."
-It was an odd sense of lack of self worth, and I don't know if I really meant what I said or not, but I didn't want him to know that his aggressive attitude was scaring me. I wanted him to think that all it would do would make me angry. But regardless, it made him stop, and he's just standing there staring at me.
-"If you wanna clean this up, I'm sure you know where the broom is." I turn away, putting the plate back in and cleaning it thoroughly, scrubbing the previous meal off into the water before I started with the silverware.
-"..I just want a hug." Brahms tells me, childish voice sounding pleasing and upset.
-"Yeah, but I don't want to be touched Brahms. You're making me uncomfortable." I place the plate on the drying rack after I rinse the suds off. "Maybe later when you put your damn big boy pants on." I wipe my hands off on a rag and I walk away from him, past shattered plates on the ground. "Clean this up and I'll see you in the music room for studying."