The Mask Of Beauty and Rage (Brahms X Greta)

Chapter 19 - Regretting

Hi everyone! It's like 1 in the morning and I'm so tired but I've been wanting to post a new chapter for a while, but college is so annoying I honestly hate college like I can't wait to be done with it all already I swear! UHH I'm, goin to bed lol SWEET DREAMS FROM FREDDY KRUEGER LOL! :) AND thank you for all the comments my friends I'm glad some people are still reading this fanfic lol! ENJOY!

This was insane, absolutely astounding, and mind you not in a good way. Brahms paced back and forth in different strides within the walls of his manor. He needed a moment to compose himself and remain diligent for Greta's sake. He felt like an utter mess you find under a dirty rug someone hadn't cleaned in years. Oh, good lord, his mind was running ragged once more with meaningless thoughts. How is he going to do this, how is he going to pull this off for Greta? He grunted a loud making it echo a little within his mask.
How could he be so stupid, it was so inconceivable how she did this to his mind, his heart, and his downright annoying nether regions. He was so quaint to Greta that night, all he wanted was to hold her and he did, great, but he put himself in a position he couldn't take back now. Well, on the contrary, he could, and he would most likely will because he will not leave this house, he reminded himself anxiously. He started hitting the walls in a fit of rage. This is useless, his back hit the wall harshly and made himself fall to the dusty floors with a loud thud. He was acting like a child again.

'I'll do it... for you.'

Slamming the back of his head onto the wall. Beating himself help won't do him any good nor will it do Greta any good if he's dead. She might beg to differ on that notion but alas he rather not continue thinking about that mental image.

Why did he say those words, he thought vanquished. Maybe deep down he knew he couldn't hold back those words forever. Brahms had to come to the realization that they'd perish if they don't get the food they needed to survive. Everything was going so swimmingly, there may have been a few sharp rocks in the stream, but they reached over onto the outside with a small victory.

Deep down though Brahms was also very much scared. Scared to be out and about in the world. He is so closed off and supposedly dead to the world but is still kicking it till this very day surprisingly. He shook his head and rubbed his scalp. God, he could use a shower right about now. He cleaned himself no doubt about it he was just always so hot inside and out it was an absolute nuisance having to keep up with his personal hygiene. He did admit though he did forget to take care of himself from time to time, always so consumed in his work and his Greta. Who knew being a man would be this hard, he thought idiotically shaking his shook annoyed with himself.

Seeing people and people seeing him, it wasn't something Brahms would ever expect to happen to him. Never again really, he thought his social days were over as a mere boy and he was happy with that no doubt but now he felt as though he was being reeled back into their moronic rich games. Perhaps he was over thinking it, yes, he might be thinking too much again. He still didn't want to leave this home. For God's sake what would he even wear, he wasn't exactly fit nor suited for any special occasion. It's not like the Queen of English was expecting him in their castle by teatime. Plus, it's not like he was needed somewhere important; he was needed here in his home with his Greta. Brahms has a mask for a face, and he would never take off the mask under any circumstance and he would never let the pitiful public see him and what he'd become. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing what he really looked like on the outside and even on the inside, it was no better than before. Making him look and feel like a freak, a fool in a clown mask waiting for a laughingstock to take place. He would not be their entertainment for a cheap laugh.

NO! Brahms stood up in a frustrated huff. He cannot do it, he will not, nor will he give it another thought. He might as well dig graves out back now to save them both the trouble. Brahms started to ascend back upstairs to Greta and tell her. More or less, Greta will probably wind up going first. It was only a matter of time; he'd enjoy every second he had left with her and when she died only then would he die right after her from a broken heart. Seems logical he thought frantically, but what was sensible to him he wasn't like everyone else, he didn't even think like every other normal person in the world. Then he supposed some time would pass and someone would probably find their rotting corpses huddled together like two desperately in love souls who could never be alone in peace and wonder why he never just bothered to man up and get the love of life so fucking food!