𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙚 || 𝑩𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒎𝒔 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒆 × 𝑭!𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

005 | Gregory

Y/N's POV:

As you had guessed, you had fallen asleep next to Brahms almost immediately after you put the lights out. It wasn't much of a problem; it's not like you left Gregory behind; you took him with you.

When you woke up, however, you noticed he was not in your arms. The moment you figured he had to be somewhere else, your breath was already hitched, and you noticed the panic slowly taking over and your eyes turning watery. Something that immediately sank the moment you saw Brahms holding him. You smiled to yourself, yet carefully took him away from the doll as you explained Gregory wasn't his. You felt bad for being mean to such a young boy, but you didn't feel comfortable with someone else holding him.

To make it up to him, you brought Brahms downstairs with you, where you made a luxurious breakfast including sausages, eggs, bacon, grilled cheese sandwiches, and freshly squeezed orange juice. You told him you'd put it in the fridge for him to take as you went outside to clean the rat traps and reinstall them again.

Brahms's POV: 

Y/N actually wanted to sleep with me; that had never happened before with any nanny I've had in the past; not even my mother wanted to be with me in my room for too long. Sure, she was obsessed with the thought of my spirit still being around her, but it feared her too.

She was always scared she'd do something wrong, always scared I'd get too attached and hurt her eventually. 'If I give more, he'll expect more.' She had told my father one day in the garden; that made me mad; she had been bad to me because she lied. She always said she loved me unconditionally and that she'd do anything for me, and then she betrays me in such ways. Something I made her pay for.

After that, the nannies came. She thought she would be able to live peacefully once she found a replacement for herself for me to torture, but I never meant to torture; I never wanted to torture; she made me do it, it was her fault she got hurt and scared, it was her punishment as she punished me before. 

Y/N isn't like that, Y/N does anything I ask of her, does anything to make me happy and truly feels sorry for anything she might've done wrong. She cares for me, she loves me, and I love her. 

I wanted to be close to her—to be closer than just smelling her scent from her panties, to be closer than hugging a doll that looked similar to her, as she hugged a doll that looked similar to me. I wanted to touch her, make her say things, and have her look at me and adore me. To love me, not that perfect version of me embodied by that doll.

She cared for that plush more than she cared for me; I knew that much. I had taken it and given it to my doll, and even that was too much for her. I wanted her to be as possessive with my doll as she was with hers. But that wouldn't be possible if she had to choose. I should be the most important to her, the one she's most possessive of, and that plush of hers ruined that chance for me.

So when she took me downstairs after putting Gregory back in her bed, I secretly took him with me and hid him in my own bed. I wasn't planning on ruining him; I didn't want her to do that to my doll either. I was going to keep him safe for as long as needed for me to get all her affection. I just had to wait for her to notice I took him.

Y/N's POV:

The day went by pretty smoothly; Brahms was kind to you, and he enjoyed his breakfast a lot. You have also been getting better at the piano which you continued to practise today, it seemed as if the air around the house had been light, and more comfortable than the weeks prior. That made you feel good; that must mean Brahms was getting used to you more and taking more of a liking to you.

That all got ruined the moment you walked into your room and noticed Gregory had been found missing. What happened this morning immediately happened again: your breath hitched, your eyes formed tears, your head began spinning, and your breathing quickened.

You immediately went looking through all your blankets, pillows, and other plushies; any sign of Gregory would do you good, but you found nothing. You rummaged through your whole room and found yourself hyperventilating as you threw all your clothes out of your closet and cupboard.

You weren't able to think of anything other than Gregory and the fact that he was gone until you went into the hallway and noticed the doll sitting on a chair. ''Brahms.'' You suddenly realised before you ran up to him and grabbed him desperately. ''You liked Gregory, right? You took him this morning. Tell me where he is; where did you take him? I don't like this hiding game, Brahms; don't hide Gregory from me. You can hide anything else, okay? Just give Gregory back. You're a good boy, right? Please show me that you're a good boy by giving me Gregory back.''

You didn't say anything else, trying to control your breathing as you listened around, hoping to hear Brahms speak directly to you or even bring Gregory back, but nothing.

Brahms's POV:

I watched her have a complete meltdown, ruining her room, breaking furniture on accident, screaming, crying, and hyperventilating. I thought she'd get over it quickly once she found my doll, but she didn't. She didn't find comfort in my doll or in me; she began screaming at it, begging me to bring Gregory back. As if that was the only important thing in her world; as if I wasn't important. I didn't like that.

I didn't do anything; I simply watched and listened, waiting for her to calm down. Something that didn't seem to come. Although, after a while, her way of thinking changed. Instead of begging for me to bring him back, she started begging for me. She wanted me, not Gregory.

Y/N's POV:

You couldn't see anymore, and you couldn't function. Panic had completely taken over. You weren't safe anymore; no one was there to protect you. Sure, the spirit of an eight-year-old boy was present, but the last thing he could do was protect you; you were hired to protect him.

You begged for him to bring your only comfort item back to make you feel safe again, something that quickly switched to begging for comfort, begging for protection, and begging for him. If he was there, he'd bring Gregory back, and he'd show you where he left him.

You were so far into your panic attack that you didn't notice any movement that happened behind you—the fact that a figure stood behind you after coming out of the walls. And once you did notice, you freaked out even more.

You screamed, threw your arms around, and tried to hit anything that came close to you; you even scratched the neck of the being that decided to come into your home, into Brahms's home.

Instead of running away from you, he walked closer to you, took hold of your hands and your arms, and hugged you so tight you weren't able to get out of his grasp. You cried for help, for everything to stop, that you didn't want to be hurt or touched, that he could get anything he wanted as long as he didn't hurt or touch you. 

You were so dissociated that you didn't notice the piece of wet cloth that was put on your nose and mouth, and you weren't aware it made you faint until you woke up.