The Mask Of Beauty and Rage (Brahms X Greta)

Chapter 22 - Kitchen Dinner

Hi everyone! The next chapter is finally here lol! More to come as always! I appreciate all the lovely comments from you awesome people! Just a quite shout out to tumblr user 'Pedzs'! That is pedzs's artwork below and she's been drawing fan-art of my Brahms X Greta Beauty and Rage fanfic and its absolutely amazing! She's got a ton of other art pieces linked to this story GO CHECK IT OUT!!! :)
ALSO, I still have Brahms merch in my Etsy shop! Feel free to check that out as well! Link is below! Enjoy!
https://www.etsy.com/shop/YazTheAngel?ref=seller-platform-mcnav&search_query=brahms

It was eventful, he could say that. It wasn't completely boring but rather quaint, well for him that is. He hadn't been outside in the public eye in a very long time and yet he felt like he didn't feel any different for some odd reason. The faces he saw didn't change but rather regressed in a few places he wouldn't deem too fond of. Strangers to him obviously but he could live without needing to know what else was out there. Maybe that was the homesickness talking and taking over his brain. Perhaps he was being a negative nelly, as his mother once said to his father about going out on a Wednesday afternoon. He didn't understand any of that nonsense, but he was being rather sour at the moment. It was only one day, an experience he wasn't too excited in attending but he did it for his Greta. Granted Brahms could not lie though about the visit, it was thrilling and interesting all the same but that was just it, most of the human faces he saw were the same. The stations and stores were the only thing that changed from the inside, but the outside did suit him. He preferred his home and that was it, truly.

Maybe he was being a downer, perhaps he should think of something else, but he couldn't stop returning to Greta's little outburst. He hadn't expected it, truly he hadn't, Brahms thought she'd be at least a little happy having the one chance to go out and about on her own. He trusted her, secretly, of course, he didn't want to tell her though. Sometimes he felt like he should though, he scowled at himself, what a mess, he thought rather vexed. An unwelcome mess he wanted completely vanished from his mind and never wished to think of it again. Witnessing none other than bloody Malcolm at the end of the street. Out of all the people, all the men in this town, why did it have to be him, it was excruciating knowing Greta would've called for him if their eyes met. Perhaps God was on Brahms's side for once and allowed his Greta not to see Malcolm in the markets. Quietly he thanked God for his generous gift. Maybe it was luck but soon that luck would run dry eventually and Brahms would have no other choice but to take matters into his own hands.

Brahms always swore he was deemed to be nothing but a cursed man. His Greta might've left him for Malcom if he did not make the bright decision to intervene and take control of the situation. Maybe that was why she was mad. No, he thought quickly dismissing it, because his Greta didn't even see Malcom. Brahms didn't have a choice, what else could he have done to stop that massive predicament from happening? He didn't want her eyes on bloody Malcolm, he wanted them on him, all on him. Brahms was the shining star and Greta was his captivating audience who demanded nothing, but a stunning show provided by yours truly.

Brahms took a sigh in his room as he thought like a child once more. He couldn't help it, it was what came natural for him, it's how he coped with not understanding what was wrong with his Greta. Brahms was constantly pacing himself into a box not daring to break out of its lines. Greta was upstairs in the kitchen, cooking again. He could practically smell her aroma from down here and it was simply driving him mad. The food smelled good too of course, her culinary skills were different. Considering she wasn't from here in the U.K but the U.S.A and maybe their foods differed in tastes and smells, he thought rather quickly. Well, whatever it was he liked it a lot.

He wanted to go up there, but he didn't. Maybe it was fear that was holding him back from going up there to face her. He desperately tried to understand, he did try but his brain didn't think like she did. He knew this but he felt like his way was always the right way and that she should follow him. It was his mansion but just thinking that way sounded unpleasant. It made him cringe inside, like how his father and his brainless hunter friends might act toward their wives. Brahms didn't want to be that way, no, not ever, he would essentially forbid it from his brain. He didn't want to be known as a heartless freak. The charlatan with nothing to offer but a mere nuisance in the household. Afterall, he did tell Greta that this was just as much her house if she stayed under this roof. It would've been extremely lonely if he hadn't kidnapped her that night. He couldn't hold himself back, he just couldn't. After seeing her with Malcom all day out on the town going to stores, eating, talking, he was constantly making her laugh. It made Brahms blood boil; she was laughing with Malom and not with him. Granted he shouldn't have been spying because he'd only hurt himself but that was in the past now. It still bugged him though from time to time. He just needed to try and move past it because in the end Brahms got the girl. Yes, Brahms has his sweet Greta and now it's a happy ending and yet it didn't feel entirely happy on the one side of this arrangement.