Brahms x Reader - After the killing

Chapter 21 - Tears under an open sky

"Crushed them." Brahms replies without emotion. "Twisted" - he makes a little gesture with his right hand - "their necks." He turns his face to you. "And ripped off their wings. Like paper."
He reminds you of a child that's been caught with mischief, like drawing on the walls, trying to calmly explain that he was really only decorating them.
The image in your head is nauseating, and you feel both disgusted and shocked. Bizarrely enough, much more so than when you witnessed Brahms kill another human being, not long ago. But these birds were innocents, Cole was not.
"Why?" you ask quietly, shaking your head. Although you've already guessed the answer to that too. He was a jealous child; his only company getting ready to literally spread their wings and see the world, leaving him behind as a prisoner in his own home. It must've felt like betrayal to him. He'd rather see them dead than free.
"I got upset." He says plainly. "I just wanted them to stop."
You have no idea, no clue at all what to say. You picture a tiny bird being crushed in a child's hand. An envious, angry child. The same child that years later would kill a man in front of you, just as easily.
"I... see." You mumble, at a loss for clever words. Brahms glances at you from the side.
"Does that bother you?" he asks softly.
And the distance between you grows bigger than just a few moments ago. Once again, the doubt settles in. You try not to look at the old bird remains in the gutter; the thought of them down there, long dead, and Brahms here next to you gives you a lump in your throat.
You swallow.
"You have to be careful, Brahms." You say after a while, in lack of a better reply. "Could you forgive yourself... if you hurt me like that?" Your voice is shaking, and you feel an annoying sting in your eyes. Trying to blink it away, they just go watery.
He looks at you, his eyes widening, and shakes his head slowly.
"I'll be careful." He then says quietly, devoutly.
"You have to." You say seriously. "Today I felt like I was being crushed, too. If you want me here, you need to be gentle with me. Do you understand?"
Two single tears escape your eyes, quickly roll down your cheeks and linger at your jaw.
Brahms looks at you like spellbound, and nods slowly.
"I promise... to be gentle." he says.
"I don't want to be scared of you Brahms." you sigh. Is that even possible? You think about how he brought you breakfast in bed, shared his books with you, played the violin beautifully... How he gifted you a most rare and beautiful bird.
Brahms looks at you in silence, careful not to interrupt in case you have something else to say. But you don't, and he lowers his gaze. His eyelashes flutter as he looks down at his hands.
"I was never good at understanding what scares others." he says quietly. "Or knowing right from wrong." He pauses for some time, and the trees in the distance rustle in the autumn wind. He continues slowly, lowering his voice as if he's ashamed of himself. "Can I dry your tears...? I promise I'll be careful."
He looks back at you, meeting your eyes. Another two big tears have trickled down your wet cheeks and you resist the impulse to quickly wipe them off with the sleeve of your sweater. You swallow, and then decide to nod at him.
Brahms turns to you, and you follow his every move with your eyes.
Slowly he raises his arm. You watch as his hand closes in, as carefully as if he was about to touch something so fragile it might break in front of him. Very softly the tips of his long fingers land on your cheek, almost tickling, and it sends an unexpected but pleasant shiver down your spine. He strokes lightly down your face, and wipes one tear away with the back of his finger, then the other. He observes you cautiously, as if to get a clue on whether he's doing this right. He caresses your cheek one more time before he lets his arm fall back down. He looks down at his hands, and then back up at you. Waiting for his verdict.
"See?" you say with a slight smile. "You do know how to be gentle."
Brahms nods, seemingly surprised.
"Thank you for letting me show you." he says shyly. The atmosphere feels a little lighter. You look out over the treetops, and the both of you sit in silence for a little while. Fully aware of the little skeletons in the gutter, but not as fazed anymore. They're a sad reminder of the past, and a reminder of who Brahms was and maybe still is. But that side of him seems much further away now. At least that's what it feels like. Maybe it's always there, sleeping.
"Are you cold, Y/n?" he suddenly asks. You realize you have goosebumps all over your arms underneath your thick sweater, and nod.
"Yeah, I am. I should go inside." you say, consciously choosing to say 'I' instead of 'we' to see how he reacts.
Brahms stands up next to you and gives you his big hand. You look at it and hesitate for a moment, before you decide to take it after all. He pulls you up with ease and holds on to your hand, as he starts to lead you down the roof to the chimney. You had planned on very carefully crawling down feet first, so you take a deep breath and try to walk as steadily as Brahms. He walks down the slightly sloping roof as if he was walking across the living room floor, and you suspect he's been up here enough times to get used to the height. You stop at the open hatch and he lets go of your hand after making sure you're balanced.

You look down the hole into the black chimney, and then start climbing down the ladder back to the loft.