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𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝟸𝟶 𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚈 𝚃𝙾 𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙵 𝙷𝙰𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙳 — four ||THIS DECEMBER — RICKY MONTGOMERY|| tw: ptsd flashback , daddy issues , self hate
A/n: some people don't celebrate Christmas so, Let's pretend you never celebrate it because of Your shitty father!!! This = flashback
YOU WERE MAKING YOURSELF A SNACK while Brahms was watching you through the walls. Of course, you and him talked about it. You told him when/where you felt comfortable/uncomfortable with him watching you. He understood and respected your boundaries. You've grown used to the fact that he watches you. It was around wintertime and you still haven't found Brahms a present. So, you were overwhelmed. And Brahms noticed. He noticed how nervous you got around him, more than usual. Even if you did tease him a lot, you still got flustered easily by him just looking at you. Maybe I should get him a new cardigan? Nah that's too boring. I could let him take my virg- Your thoughts were paused as you felt to arms around your shoulder. You flinch in shock. How in fuck does he stay so quiet.
"Hello, Princey." He buried his face into your Shoulder. Which kinda hurt because of his mask, you didn't tell him because you didn't want him to feel bad. Hold up. Is Brahms a virgin? "I want to put up the Christmas tree," Brahms told you. You are a big softy for the masked male, you stopped doing what you were doing and dragged him up to the attic.
♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎
"Have you ever put up a Christmas tree?" You asked Brahms. He shook his head and asked if you had. "Nope," You said.
"We can learn together then." You told Brahms "Together?" "Yeah, together!"
♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎
You and Brahms ended up with a beautiful-looking tree. The vibrant bright colors looked lively. It showed Christmas spirit. You and Brahms sat near the fireplace of the parlor. You were laying on the couch as he rested on top of you. His feet hung off the couch as his head rested on your chest. Your fingers were tangled around his curly locks. "L-love" Brahms randomly said, he was still nervous about pet names. You hummed in response.
"Do you hate me? For..- for killing your him..?"
Your eyes widened. You never thought about that. Did you hate him? Did you only love him because he killed the person you hated most? No? You didn't hate me, right? Right? That's when you realized. You didn't hate your father the most out of anyone. You didn't hate Brahms either. It was you. You were the problem. It was always you. But you were too blinded by the hatred towards your father to realize. You were blinded by Brahms's love towards you. You hate yourself the most. You always had.
"No. I don't hate you. But I hate myself. I don't hate you. I-.. I don't hate you. I would never hate you!" You told Brahms. Feeling tears swell in your eyes. It burned. It burned too much. The guilt like your stomach started to burn inside you. It melted you. You didn't want to hate yourself. You remembered when you yelled at your father those many years ago.
"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TALK ABOUT HER! THE SHIT YOU DID TO HER. EVERYTHING YOU DID TO HER WAS YOUR FAULT. YOU'RE A DRUNK! That's all you'll ever be... I hate you. I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU! LEAVE ME ALONE. I wanna cry."
Brahms moved to a different position, you on his lap, his arms holding you close to his chest. You started to let the tears fall. The tears that didn't fall when you were arguing with your father. All those feelings that were bottled up finally leaked out of the bottle. Brahms made you feel good. Feel good about yourself. You hated yourself less when you were around him. He made you feel better about yourself. He's the best part of you. He guided you out of the dark when you needed someone the most. He is and always will be your person. So, yeah. You don't and never will hate him.
