The Boy Movie Brahms Heelshire x reader FanFic

Part 3 - Getting to know you

This chapter is dedicated to @Eilish_Billie

"Amanda?"

"Hey, Y/N, good to hear from you."

"Listen, I need to ask you about Joel."

You hear your sister hesitate, then say, "Has he turned up?"  

"No."  You reply a little too quickly.  "Do you think he will?"

"I thought he might at first, after he got your address.   But he'd have been there by now surely?"

"What have you heard?"

"Nothing since we last spoke."

You sigh theatrically.   "Amanda, you've never been able to lie to me.  Spill."

"That idiot spent weeks ripping around town telling anyone who'd listen what a whore you are and how much he hated your guts.   When he wasn't drunk he was high as a kite.   We heard from the guy he shares an apartment with that he'd gone up to Alaska.  Contract work he told everyone.  Nobody's seen him for weeks."

You nod and relax.  "I don't think I'll see him again."

"I hope you're right.  How's it going with your Doll Baby?"

You pause, wondering how long you can sustain  the lies.   "I get paid more in a week here  than I do in a month over there. I don't care if I'm tending a pet pig with wings."

"Fair enough.  I'd do the same if I was single.   Met Prince Charming yet?"

"Not quite."

"Slim pickin's, huh?"

"You could say so."

"Sorry, Sis.  I know the last thing you need right now is another mixed up relationship."

You chat for another ten minutes, then hang up.   You hate deceiving her. 

~

At 7pm prompt, your next mixed up relationship is sulking behind the oak panelled walls.

"Brahms, I know you can hear me!"

You cock an ear and listen.  Silence.   You've cooked dinner; fried chicken, mashed potato and buttered sweetcorn.  It's going cold on the kitchen table.

"Brahms?   You know, I'm a great cook.   No more living out of the freezer on scraps.   Doesn't that chicken smell good?   Brahms? Goddammit!"

You pace up and down in the hallway.   Mr Heelshire told you his son was shy.  But it's not like the two of you haven't met and conversed already.  You hammer on the woodwork.

"Brahms!   If you don't come out now...  I'm not going to put that food in the freezer.  It'll go in the trash!   Do you hear me?"

In frustration you stamp off into the kitchen, hollering,  "If you don't make a show, I'm leaving this house for good!"

At the table you pick your cutlery up and attack the fried chicken.  On the second bite, you hear him behind you.  You don't turn or stop eating.  He sits down opposite you and stares at his plate of food.

"Eat it while it's hot," you command.  

He picks up his knife and fork, and then you realise.