ten. i wonder.
"So it's a kid's mind in a man's body? And you want us to just be roommates with it?" Tom asks, siping from his coffee mug, there are blood stains lining each of his knuckles.
Having returned at the early hours of the morning to see Lyra perfectly alive and no longer afraid, Tom was almost certain he'd imagined the whole thing in a fit of rage as Harry.
"He— and yes. I know how it sounds, but you don't have to talk to him, or interact with him at all. All i have to do is make an extra plate for him, put him to bed and play with him sometimes." Lyra tried her best to explain, knowing she's barely winning him over.
"Yesterday you were afraid he'd kill you, now you're fine with babysitting this creep?" Tom tries to reason with her, his ring clinking against his cup as he grips it in frustration.
"I know how crazy it sounds, but look at the playroom, the grave in the yard, this was his home before it was yours, before it was mine. We can't just kick him out." Lyra speaks, Tom keeping his anger inside for fear of blowing up at her. So he remains silent. "He won't hurt us, as long as we don't hurt him. He just wants to be cared for, Tom."
Tom finishes his Coffee and moves to rinse the cup out in the sink. This is not what he thought they'd be dealing with on a Saturday morning.
"How do you know that for sure?" He asks, turning the tap off and drying the cup with a towel.
"We spoke and it's like he was just a little boy, he just wanted to be tucked in and loved, Tom. He promised not to hurt us, I don't think he meant to scare us, he's just curious, like any kid is."
Tom places the cup down with a harsh slam, turning to face her.
"But he's not a kid. He's a grown ass man." He speaks and Lyra shakes her head, brushing past him to do as he'd done with her own cup.
"I know how it sounds, I know it's a little unusual." Tom scoffs at her words, "But it's fair. It's his house. We're safe, he's safe. Just agree and you'll hear the end of it, I swear. If after a week you're really not comfortable with it, we can figure something out. But one week, Tom, please, that's all I'm asking." Lyra places a hand on each of his arms to force him to look at her. Tom's stern emerald eyes soften at the meeting of hers and he sighs.
"If he lays a hand on you i'll end him." Tom tells her and Lyra smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
"Thank you, I know." He sighs and rests his temple against hers, closing his eyes. He's really not pleased but Lyra knows it'll be okay when he realises nothing much will change. Her fingers gently brush across his freckles and lashes and she hums.
"You're so handsome." He pulls back with a smirk and presses a kiss to her forehead.
"Don't try butter me up, sweetheart. I'll be in our room, covering the holes in the painting." Lyra nods with a small smile as he walks out and leaves her with her thoughts.
"Brahms?" Lyra calls, peering up past the ridge at the end of the ladder. His bed is empty, so is the entire attack, she frowns and goes back down, flicking the switch the let the ladder back up as she returns to the kitchen.
She makes a plate of food for Brahms and lays it on the dining room table, turning to return to the kitchen. She's stopped by the presence of the large man, towering over her as his stern eyes observe her.
"Brahms." She clutched her chest, breathing heavily from the fright. "Goodmorning, I made you breakfast." She gestures to the plate on the table and he leans down, craning his neck to reach hers.
YOU ARE READING
starry eyes ✮ slashers.
أدب الهواةdrawn to the darkness and mystery, Lyra's fascination with the macabre takes an unexpected turn when she finds herself falling in love with the very entities that haunt others' nightmares.