The Boy Movie Brahms Heelshire x reader FanFic

Dark - Part 47

The dreams begin insidiously.   At first they're just fragments, jumbled thoughts and images that leave you feeling perturbed upon waking, but nothing you remember within the hour.   After all the stress of the past months it's no wonder, you tell yourself.   You're amazed your subconscious has come out of it all intact with no other traumas but a few bad dreams.   

You don't tell Brahms; you see little point as he never seems to dream, or if he does he never remembers them.   He always sleeps silently, and deeply - like the dead.  He rarely tosses and turns, and never has insomnia.   You, on the other hand, sometimes thrash about so much you wake tangled in the bedding and feel as though you've not slept the whole night.

It's been eight weeks now since Brahms buried Melissa deep within the woods.   You'd driven her car a hundred miles away to dump it at the dead of night in the middle of nowhere.  It was worth the two hour slog it took you return to the Premier Inn you'd booked.   Exhausted and shivering with cold, you'd waited out the night before returning home on the earliest train.    No wonder you're having nightmares!

The weather is now dull and damp and relentlessly dreary.  Typical British weather, Brahms assures you.  You both continue with the routine of the Rules; at least most of them.   Sometimes, Brahms disappears into his lair for a few hours, leaving you to read or surf the newly installed internet.     At least now you can email your family and friends, though you give nothing away about what's really happened at the Heelshire mansion.

When the first bank statement comes with your name on it, you stare aghast at the balance.  The Heelshire's aren't just rich, they're immensely wealthy.   Brahms shows no interest in money or his personal wealth.   He's happy to leave all that to you.   

Then one night, your dreams take a turn for the worse.   There's nothing tangible you can explain to Brahms the next morning.

"What is it, Y/N?  Is something wrong?"

"I had this nightmare last night, Brahms.   I dreamed something was in the house - something dark and...demonic."

He's staring at you over his bowl of cornflakes.  You feel a fool but can't find the right words to explain how you feel.   "It was more a feeling than anything I could see.  It was awful."

Brahms cocks his head.   "I'm the only demon in the Heelshire mansion, aren't I?"

You shoot him a weak smile.  "I'm sorry, I'm just being sensitive."

"It's your subconscious dealing with what happened here."

"I know but...the dreams are getting worse, not better."

He rises to stand behind you.   His fingers on your neck herald his lips on your cheek.  "Nothing here to hurt you, Y/N.  Just you and me."

You incline your head towards him and he leans down and kisses you on the mouth.   "Will they go away, do you think?"

"Of course."

But they don't.  They get worse.  Much worse.    One night you wake to a blackness so complete, you're convinced someone or something is in the room leaning over you.   You lie rigid, too terrified to move or try to waken Brahms.   There's a  terrible moment when you think Brahms has abandoned you, that the space beside you is empty; a void about to be filled by whatever lurks above you.   But then Brahms stirs and the spell is broken.  You exhale with a whimper then reach for him.  His warm strong arms enfold you, his chest rising and falling as he drifts into slumber again.  Burying your face into him, you try to rationalise your feelings.  It takes ages to get back to sleep.  This incident worries you so profoundly you make Brahms promise not to sleep in his lair for a while.

"These nightmares are really scaring me, Brahms.   Please don't leave me at night until they ease off."

"I won't.  I promise."

"It's probably the guilt."

Brahms says nothing but you can see he's struggling to understand.  Guilt and remorse isn't something he seems able to feel or process.  At least not with people he doesn't care for.  You sit nursing a mug of homemade soup watching him eat his lunch.  "You know Joel was into Black Magic."

The oakmoss eyes flicker up to you.   

"You know what that is, don't you?"

"Of course, I do."

"He dabbled.  Joel.  He told me he and Elias used to mess with a Ouija board when they were kids.   His grandmother was into the dark stuff.  There were tales of seances and conjurings.    Both brothers were into thrash metal and the band, Coil."  

At Brahms's blank expression you explain, "Coil played post industrial music in the 80's and 90's.  They professed to using magical rituals and the dark arts."

"Y/N?  Where is this going?" 

"Joel always said he'd curse me if I ever left him."

"He's dead."

"I know.   But I can't shake off the feeling he isn't gone."

Brahms sighs  "The only people to be scared of are the living.  And nothing walking on two legs scares me.   You're safe here, Y/N.  You always were."

"I know.  I...don't know what's wrong with me!"

"What did he do to you, Y/N?"  Brahms asks softly.

You look at him with your heart in your face.  You know it's time you shared this part of your past that's had such an impact on the present.  "He kicked my baby out of me.  He was high on drugs and raging.   I can't even remember now what triggered his temper.   I spent weeks in hospital and he was arrested but no charges were made.  Don't ask me why.  I just wanted to get as far away from him as I could,  so I applied to work for your parents."

You see something malevolent flash behind Brahms's eyes for a moment but then the look is gone.  You expect him to react more to what you've just told him, but to your relief he murmurs, "Shall we walk down to the lake?"

You nod.   "Perhaps some fresh air is what I need.   It's stopped raining, thank God."

As you reach for your coat and pull it on, Brahms grabs the lapels to pull you close to him.   " Do you feel me?" he asks.   "Do you trust me?"  

You gaze up at him, at the fall of dark curly hair that always gives him that vulnerable, boyish look, at the piercing imperative green of his eyes.   You feel his strength, his masculine power and reach up to stroke his cheek.   "I'll always trust you."

He relaxes, then wraps you in a bear hug.