Brahms x Reader - After the killing

Chapter 4 - Visited by the doll

    You sigh, what a relief. He's gone.
And so are the remains of the broken Brahms doll. The only sign of the chaos that broke loose last night is the broken mirror revealing a gaping hole into the wall, the dark hole from where Brahms emerged like a living nightmare yesterday. You close the door again and head back upstairs to rest your ache away. You curl up in bed and start reading one of the books that has been chosen for you by Brahms. It's Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. You wonder if he picked a book about a girl because he thought you'd like that the best. You've only heard of this classic book before, and it's surprisingly good. You keep reading it all afternoon, completely engulfed with the tragic but eventful life of Jane. It's comforting to let yourself be swept away by a book, forgetting what you witnessed not long ago, even if just for a while.
A few hours pass by, and your reading is suddenly interrupted by a noise in the hallway outside. You look up from the pages and listen. You hear the floor creak and then – a knocking on the wall. Three times. You put the book aside and walk over to the door, slowly opening it. At first you don't see anything unusual, but as you look around you find a plate of cookies on the floor. You were hoping to catch a glimpse of Brahms, but he's gone. Just in case he is still close by, you say "Thank you" before you return to your room with the cookies, leaving the door open this time.
Brahms really meant it when he desperately told you "I'll be good! I will!". You can tell he is trying hard to make up for the not-so-good first impression. You remember what you heard Mrs. Heelshire tell the doll before she left for good. "You have to be a good boy. Because you promised us!"
There is no sign of Brahms for the rest of the evening, and when the moon has risen and darkness fallen over the house you are already sound asleep with Jane Eyre still in your hands.

You are woken up by bright rays of sunlight the following morning, not even remembering that you actually fell asleep. Your head feels a lot better now, after all this rest. You're a bit hungry though, since all you ate yesterday was breakfast and cookies. Not that you're unhappy with the hospitality. You notice something in the corner of your eye, and turn your head.
It's the doll! The Brahms doll. It's been patched up and glued, and looks a bit rough as it sits on the edge of the bed, its head slightly turned to you. As if it's been waiting for you to wake up. You wonder if this could possibly mean that the real Brahms is nearby, somewhere. In spite of the disturbing things you saw before in his room, and his... cold blooded killing, you can't help but begin to feel a bit curious about him. Hesitant maybe, but curious. And a sorrowful kind of compassion, when you think about the fate of his parents and the final words in their letter.
"Brahms...?" You ask in a drowsy voice, and get up to sit in bed. You listen closely, holding your breath. A few seconds pass by.
"Hi."
A muffled child's voice from somewhere, maybe behind the walls or from the corridor. He's here.
"Where are you...?" you ask hesitantly.
There's silence for a short moment.
"Big Brahms is hiding."
He calls himself "Big Brahms". As opposed to the doll, then. And you begin to understand. You feel a sting of sadness for him - being both a shy boy and a confused adult in the same shattered mind. Of course it's easier to speak of himself in the third person, taking on a role played through the lifeless doll.
"Why is he hiding?" you ask as softly as you can. Another moment of silence.
"He doesn't want to scare you." The child answers at last, his voice cracking a little.
You feel touched that he's afraid he'll scare you with his presence, ashamed of the harm he caused you in the passages as you were trying to escape. You think about the best way to explain yourself.
"You see... I was scared because I thought he was angry at me." It's true. You really were terrified of him just a couple of nights ago. You were convinced that he was going to hurt or even kill you. When in reality he just didn't want you to leave, and didn't know what else to do but chase after you.
"Big Brahms gets very angry sometimes. But not at you." A moment of silence. "He says... he's sorry. He didn't mean to scare." The child assures.
"Thank you Brahms. That's nice of you to say."
"Big Brahms wanted to ask how you feel today."
"Tell him I feel much better. And... I'm glad he asked."  
You feel grateful for this strange little conversation, thar he's trying to reach out in the best and maybe only way that he can. He doesn't know how to act around people. Only observe them from a safe distance. You know you have to see him in person today. You want to try to speak to him, directly to him.
"Thank you for talking to me" the child says, and you hear creaking somewhere, followed by footsteps fading away. You leave the doll on the bed in case Brahms wants to come back for it, and put on a sweater before you head downstairs to make some breakfast.
You sit down at the kitchen table with your breakfast; fried eggs, a sandwich and a tall glass of juice. While you eat you think about how you might approach Brahms today. Wonder if he likes tea. Maybe you could bring two cups of tea to his hideout in the walls? That's where he's most likely to be, you imagine. In his safe place. His weird, creepy safe place.
Perhaps it's time he let someone in. After 20 years of solitude.