Brahms x Reader - After the killing

Chapter 7 - "I'm sorry you saw that"

    "Of course not, if you don't want me to." You let him know.
He takes a deep breath and pushes his mask up slightly.
"Thank you" he says in a somewhat deeper voice this time. You wonder if his parents always kept treating him like a small child, and if that's why he seems more comfortable in the role of a child rather than an adult. If he's never gotten the chance to be one, it's no wonder he's not used to it. You both drink your tea in silence, and you watch Brahms back meanwhile.
You observe his dark, wavy hair, his long neck and shoulders. You feel a calm in the room in this moment, and you hope that he feels it too. Soon you notice Brahms sliding his mask back down, and he slowly turns around to you.
"Brahms?" you say softly. "Can I ask you something?"
He looks at you and nods, waiting for your question.
"I'm not mad, but... the doll on your bed. It's wearing my dress...?"
He stares at you, and for a moment you could swear you see a flash of fury in his eyes. He then blinks nervously and looks away, as if he's cursing himself. You see his throat move as he swallows, and he squirms a little. He's noticeably uncomfortable.
"Uh..." he starts and looks down at his hands. "I didn't think you'd see it." He stands up and hurries past you, over to the bed and hides the handkerchiefs under the covers. He sits down and starts undressing the puppet, consisting of a pillow with limbs and a head sown onto it, clearly embarrassed. "It's fine, I mean... I'm not mad." You assure.
You feel bad for him and regret bringing it up. You walk over and sit down next to him on the bed. "It's alright, don't worry." You tell him. "I get it." He pushes the doll to the floor and clenches the dress in his fists so hard you're afraid he'll tear it apart any second.
"I'm sorry you saw that. Please, forget about it." He says tensely and hands you the dress.
"Thank you, I missed it." You say in an attempt to lighten the mood.
You can't help but feel sorry for him, this strange and lonely masked boy in his filthy clothes and messy hair. A boy so desperate he made a doll to represent you, to be near you and do things in secret... However twisted it may seem though, you can't help but feel a little flattered in a confusing way. And the fact that he's so ashamed for doing a dirty thing is kind of sweet...?
He glances at you. You look each other in the eye for a short moment.
"If you're to come back to the house, maybe we should bring some of your things?" you ask to give him something else to think about.
You're not surprised to find that Brahms owns very few pieces of clothing, and that they're all the same style he's wearing now. You carry his clothes and he grabs as many books as he can, plus a taxidermy owl. You have a feeling that all the taxidermy in the Heelshire home might be Brahms works of art.
You leave his room together, walk through the passages, down the stairs and back to the secret door to the childhood room. Brahms opens the little hatch, steps in, and puts his owl and books on the mantle of the fireplace. He reaches out his hand to you. You grab it, a little surprised, and he pulls you up with such ease that you bump into him lightly. You take a step back and look up. He looks down at you through the holes in his mask and you let go of his big hand. You notice there's a bad wound in it. You put down the pile of clothes on his bed and start folding them. "Is that from when you... killed Cole?" you ask and point at the wound that still looks rather fresh. Brahms looks at his palm and nods.
"I never... thanked you for that. I'm glad he's dead. Thank you Brahms."
You never thought you'd be happy that someone had died, but you really meant it. Brahms killed for you. You had wanted Cole gone so many times you lost count and now he finally was. He would never hurt you or anyone else, ever again. The son of a bitch got exactly what he deserved, and not a day too early. 
Brahms nods slowly and looks down, like he's gone a little shy.
"It was no trouble." He says as if he's talking about helping you with the dishes or something just as ordinary.
"I appreciate it." You say and look up at him. You realize he appears even more unkempt here in the daylight of the bedroom. "Oh. Maybe you want to... take a shower, and change clothes? Now that you're staying in the house." You say as nicely as possible, not to be rude. Brahms seems to agree and picks out some clean clothes from the pile you've folded, and heads toward the door before he suddenly stops. He looks back at you with worry in his shaded eyes. You raise your eyebrows in concern.
"What's wrong?" you wonder.