Inside the wall - Brahms Heelshire x male oc

2

A large kitchen -- the kind that probably once housed a whole staff of servants. Now it's just Vincent and Malcolm stuffing cans of food on shelves.

"Where are you from?" Malcolm asked, trying to make a small conversation with the pretty man beside him.

"UK, London." Vincent answered, not turning his head to look at Malcolm.

"Is this your first trip?" Malcolm asked.

Vincent shakes his head, looking at Malcolm. "My third trip."

"Hm. I'm usually so good at these things. I've got a touch of the gift you know." Malcolm said.

"The gift?" Vincent questioned, arching an eyebrow.

"Prognosticator. Clairvoyant. Whatever you like to call it. I had a grandmum that read tea-leaves. My mother read palms." Malcolm said.

"And what do you read?" Vincent asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Malcolm looks at him, thinking.

Vincent rubs his palm over his elbow, feeling awkward at being stared at.

"Palms." Malcolm said.

"Palms?" Vincent questioned, arching an eyebrow. Why didn't he just say that before?

"If you'll allow me..." Malcolm said, holding out his hand.

Vincent stares at him, blinking and not making a move to give Malcolm his hand.

"Don't be shy." Malcolm said.

Vincent internally rolled his eyes, holding out his right hand to Malcolm who took it into his own hand.

Malcolm examined Vincent's palm carefully. He squints his eyes in concentration.

"So what do you see?" Vincent asked.

"Interesting. Very, very interesting. I see that you're a writer. It looks like you've come here to be inspired by the stories. To get away from the hustle and bustle of your life in the United Kingdom." Malcolm said.

Vincent blinked, shaking his head. That is not even close.

"No?" Malcolm asked.

"No." Vincent said.

"Close?" Malcolm asked.

"Not even a little." Vincent said.

Malcolm looks back at Vincent's palm. "Rubbish. One more try, yeah? Okay... ah! Here it is. I see what went wrong. Ah, a dark past. On the run are we?"

Vincent pulls his hand away from Malcolm, shaking his head again.

"Sorry. I'm afraid that was my best attempt at flirting. Believe it or not I'm actually considered charming here in this country. It's amazing that any of us really manage to procreate at all." Malcolm said.

Vincent grabs a loaf of bread. "Bread?"

Malcolm clears his throat uncomfortably. Tough crowd. "Cupboard behind you."

"So what's the family like?" Vincent asked.

"The family? Well... they're nice. Very generous. As good a person as you'll ever hope to meet." Malcolm said as Vincent hands him some cans.

"And their son. Brahms?" Vincent asked.

"Brahms. Yes. He's... uh... I'm not sure how to put it..." Malcolm said, searching for the words as a door opens in another room. Saved by the bell. "Here they are now."

That's all he can say as Mrs. Heelshire enters the kitchen. If he thought the artist was taking some liberties of the woman he was very, very wrong. Mrs. Heelshire is short and squatted -- not quite a little person, but definitely less than average height. She looks as if she stepped directly out of the painting.

"Mr. Livingstone?" Mrs. Heelshire said.

"Mrs. Heelshire, it's so nice to meet you." Vincent said, bowing his head slightly out of habit.

"Yes. Follow me, Mr. Livingstone." Mrs. Heelshire said and starts walking to the entranceway with Vincent behind her.

Vincent can hear talk in the other room. It sounds serious, like a father giving his child a talk.

"Brahms is very excited to meet you, Mr. Livingstone. He's never met a male nanny before." Mrs. Heelshire said, seemingly studying Vincent for a second before nodding in satisfaction.

"I'm very excited to meet him too." Vincent said, a small smile on his face.

Mrs. Heelshire suddenly stops, making Vincent stop as well. She looks at Vincent's feet. "Where are your shoes?"

Vincent looks down at his shoe-less feet. He looks up at Mrs. Heelshire, embarrassed.

𓉞

Mrs. Heelshire waits, arms folded, in the hallway.

Vincent comes out of a room with an apologetic look on his face. "I was sure I took them off right here."

"They'll turn up. It's Brahms. He can be... playful. I assume you brought other shoes?" Mrs. Heelshire asked.

Vincent gives one last glance around before looking at Mrs. Heelshire. "In my bag."

"Good. Now come along, we've kept them waiting long enough." Mrs. Heelshire said and started walking to the living room with Vincent behind her.

Mr. Heelshire, is bent down on his knee, obscuring the figure he's talking to, presumably Brahms.

Mrs. Heelshire clears her throat. Mr. Heelshire stands obediently and turns towards Vincent. He, like Mrs. Heelshire, looks like he stepped directly out of the painting.

And then Vincent got his first look at the figure Mr. Heelshire was talking to... a doll?

Literally. A life-size and somewhat life-like doll with a perfect porcelain face, not unlike the painting, with perfect, delicate hands and wearing a suit like you might see British children wear in the 1950's. It, or he, as this is Brahms, stands facing Vincent.

"Mr. Livingstone, allow me to introduce you to our son, Brahms." Mr. Heelshire said, watching Vincent carefully who has a blank expression on his face but it quickly disappears when a small smile takes over his face.

Vincent moves forward and gets down on a knee and gently shakes Brahms' porcelain hand. "It's nice meeting you, Brahms. My name is Vincent Livingstone." He introduces, not seeing Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire giving each other a hopeful, meaningful look. "I hope you and I can be friends."

"You've met Brahms then?" Vincent heard Malcolm say, making him stand up and go back to stand next to Mrs. Heelshire. Without missing a beat Malcolm gets down on a knee and shakes Brahms' hand. "How are you doing, Brahms? You take it easy on Mr. Livingstone, he's traveled a long way just to meet you." He stands up, turning to the three. "I'm off then. Bill's on the table." He said, turning to Vincent. "Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Livingstone. Hope to se--"

"The pleasure's all mine." Vincent said, cutting Malcolm's words off. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Mrs. Heelshire sharing a small smile with Mr. Heelshire.

Malcolm nodded, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Thank you, Malcolm." Mrs. Heelshire said, watching the man leave. "Mr. Heelshire, will you please take Mr. Livingstone's things to his room? Mr. Livingstone, we might as well get started. I have quite a bit to show you. If you'll help Brahms along, we'll begin upstairs."