The Boy Movie Brahms Heelshire x reader FanFic

Part 30 - Eye of the Storm

For the split second that Elias's attention is off  you, you twist your body, jack-knife your knees and roll away from him.   You know it's imperative to be out of the way before Brahms makes his move.   You've seen how swiftly he strikes and how deadly he is.   You roll into  the skirting board with a thump, twisting around to see what happens next.   Elias is crouched, still holding a swatch of your hair.  Brahms is standing at the far end of the hallway, silhouetted against the kitchen light.  You see the pale wink of porcelain, and realise why Elias has been thrown off guard.  You expect both men to charge at each other.    Elias is straightening up, glaring at Brahms and breathing heavily through his mouth.  Brahms stands like stone, calm as the eye of a storm.  He's dressed head to toe in black, and barefoot.

Elias, never at home to humility, points a finger at his adversary, then turns to you, an arrogant smirk on his face.    "The fuck is this?"  He gives an explosive guffaw.  "Chucky's Dumber Cousin?"

By the time Elias has turned back to mock  Brahms to his face, Brahms is halfway across the hallway. He slams into the older man with the ferocity of a panther taking down its prey.  Elias hits the floor with a smash that breaks his left shoulder.  He thrashes beneath his attacker, too shocked to scream, his face an unholy shade of scarlet.  You see tears in his eyes as again and again, his shattered collarbone takes unrelenting punishment.  Brahms thrashes Elias as silently and efficiently as a well oiled machine.  You hear the drumbeat of his skull beating against the parquet floor, the drumming of his boot heels, the desperate scrabble of his fingernails against that white mask.

Brahms's fist connects with Elias's nose, and you see the bridge shift to the right with a splatter of blood and a sickening rotten fruit squelch.   Beads of bright red bounce off the parquet.  Elias gets the heel of his hand beneath Brahms's chin, and punches upwards, jerking his head back and dislodging the mask.   With a flick of his head, Brahms tosses the mask away.  It clatters on the floor and skids towards you, unbroken.   You reach for it.  Hold it to your breasts.  You heart is beating like a bird's in the mouth of a  cat.

Elias glares up at Brahms's scarred face, at the mop of curls dancing around his face.  He just has the time to mumble, "fuckin' freak,"  before he's given a  head butt that all but knocks him senseless.   You marvel at the punishment being meted out, at the amount of blood and pure unbridled testosterone fuelled fury.   It's one thing to watch a choreographed movie fight, and quite another to see the real thing.   Brahms is younger than Elias, and more muscular.  You crouch against the wall, both knees to your chest, eyes wide.   One man is grimacing and snarling, his face screwed into lines of such abject hatred it makes you cringe  The other, the man you've learned to love, wears an expression as empty and devoid of emotion as the mask you're cradling.   In that moment, you know he's the real killer; that eliminating Elias is nothing more to him that swatting  a fly or disposing of vermin.  You have a moment almost akin to grief, followed by despair at the violence before you.  Then hot pride flares, a perverse joy at what's unfolding.   This is Brahms.  Your Brahms.  Fighting for you.  Fighting to save you, protect you, keep you safe.   You know it's wrong.  You feel it's right.  Elias is as broken in his own way; as twisted and cruel as his brother.   He'd as soon beat the truth out of you as Brahms is beating the pomposity out of him. 

You hear a grunt of pain as Elias's elbow cracks into Brahms's eye socket.  Elias is screaming now, an incoherent flow of invective that sprays out of his mouth  along with the blood.  He's twisting around, dragging Brahms with him.    With a lunge, he manages to snap up with his teeth catching Brahms's throat and drawing blood.   He repeats the manoeuvre, misses and earns himself a punch to the temple.  But he's managed to get both knees up beneath him, and with a grunt of exertion, thrusts upwards unlocking the grip that's held him pinioned for so long.

With a gasp, you watch Elias kick out and catch Brahms across the temple.  The blow stuns him, and in the time it takes him to recover, Elias has him on his knees in a headlock.   You can see the hold is weak, for Elias can only use one arm due to his damaged shoulder.  You scrabble to your feet, looking around for something to hit him over the head with.  Brahms is staring at you, the cords in his neck standing out against the strain of the pressure.  You lock eyes with him, see the infinitesimal shake of his  head, so hesitate.  Nodding, you step back to wait.

Brahms jags an elbow into Elias skinny ribs so hard you hear the connection.   Once.  Twice.  On the third whack, you hear a rib crack and Elias screams again, loosening his grip.    Now, Brahms shows no mercy.

He snatches at Elias's nose, pushes beneath it, snapping the other's head back.    Like a vampire he latches his strong white teeth around Elias's windpipe then bites down.

"Brahms, NO!"

He'll do it.  You know he will.  He'll bite right through Elias's throat if that's what it takes to bring him down.   Elias is squawking  like a chicken, gurgling and spluttering obscenely.   You run to Brahms, pleading for him to stop.   "They'll take you away," you cry.   "Don't do this.  He's not worth it."

Brahms releases Elias with a shove that sends him skittering across the floor.  He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing heavily,  staring murderously across the hallway.  Elias sits with his head hanging, all fight gone from him.  He's panting and bleeding, and clearly beaten.  Now, perhaps he'll leave you both alone and crawl back to where ever he came from.

Brahms brings himself to his full height, his broad chest heaving.   There's a bite mark on his neck, and his knuckles are all bleeding.  A nasty bruise is starting up around his left eye.  His tousled curls are dripping with sweat.

You stand between the two men.

"You need to go," you warn Elias.

Elias glares up at you.  "Is this what he did to my brother?"

You stare back at him levelly, shaking your head.  "No."   

You see defeat in his eyes as he lowers his gaze.   Slowly, he gains his feet, then stands there, shoulders slumped.  

What happens next seems to play out in slow motion.   You turn towards Brahms, see from the corner of your eye that Elias is holding something out. As you turn your head to get a better look,   Brahms leaps forwards, pushing you aside so hard you tumble to the floor, skinning your knees.  There's a loud report as the revolver fires.  A spray of red mist.  Brahms collapses like a sack of wet cement.  

With horror  you see the wound in his head, the spreading pool of blood.  You gaze up at Elias, hoping he'll shoot you too.   You're so shocked you can't even cry out.  Tears course down your cheeks as you find your voice. "What have you done!   What have you fucking done!"

Elias turns and runs like the coward he is.   You hear the kitchen door slam behind him, and moments later the roar of a car engine as he screeches away.   

Stricken, you cradle Brahms in your arms, sobbing into his hair.