Slashers x Reader [FINISHED]

Brahms Heelshire x reader (part 5)

Just as you entred the kitchen, you saw a person very quickly disapear behind a corner. You paid attention to where the person went. It must've been that guy from before, running away. You put the doll down into his chair and quickly looked at the counter. A cup. A cup of tea laid on top of the table-like furniture. You grabbed onto the ear of the cup and inspected it. Maybe it's poisonous, maybe it's drugged. You took a whiff of what the tea smells like. Just... tea. Tea with a little hint of honey maybe. You took a careful sip. It was little too hot to drink but it didn't taste half bad. Further away from the tea, there were many little papers all with badly written words. Possibly discarded by the new house dweller. They read mostly the same thing. "For, four, for, for" someone was having trouble writing.
You crouched down to the little closet of the counter and opened it. There was a shotgun. Mr Heelshire quietly suggested that it's there before his leaving. You grabbed onto it and checked for shells. They were in, you only needed to hit.

"(Y/n)? What are you doing?" A child, brittish voice asked from behind you. You got spooked and fell on your ass, dropping the shotgun.
"B...Brahms?" You lifted yourself up from the ground, looking at the doll and around. The voice sounded... muffled. Yet you still got no answer. "Brahms? Brahms Heelshire is this you?" You asked louder, standing up to your full height. "What are you doing (Y/n)?" The walls creaked as he gave another question. You sighed with a smile, looking up at the celing. You were comunicating with a ghost. A real ghost.
"Can you see someone is the house Brahms?"
"I see pretty (Y/n). I see Brahms"
The coment about you being pretty made your mouth curve into a little smile. Even when it's coming from a ghost, it's nice to hear.
"That's nice of you Brahms... are you... are you in the kitchen with me?" You asked, hiding the shotgun back and closing the door. You walked to the table, still looking around, as if searching for Brahms. "I'm..." He seemed to struggle with the question a little. "Don't worry, I'm not pushing on you" You sat at the table.
"Next to you" The muffled voice said. You looked at the doll and smiled. "Yeah, that-"
"Your other next, pretty (Y/n)" The voice corrected your stare. You looked the other way, only seeing the kitchen. Suddenly, you heard three knocks on the wall on that side of the kitchen. It moved with you a lot at first. You got up, walked over to the wooden wall and knocked back three times. You recieved another three knocks. It went on like this for a while before your watch signified that you were going to be late for Brahms' studies again. "Brahms? Library okay?" You asked the wall, it shifting and cracking as soon as you said that. You nodded, picked up the tea and the doll and began trotting to where the wall sounds were going. You both stopped at the library.
"Music?" The voice of the walls asked
"No Brahms... we can't listen to just that. We have to learn a bit too" You tried convincing him carefuly.
"Read all of it" The voice argued back.
"Twice?" You asked
"Three" The voice answered, sounding bored.
"Thrice... okay um... how about we compromise?" You suggested, spreading your arms out and looking around for any ghosts.
"Compromise..?" The voice asked very quietly.
"Yeah it's like... half of a good deal, halfway happy" You explained, recieving a "mhm" from the walls. "Okay, we read a few pages of a book, and then the rest we can listen to music. Sound fair?" You smiled, crossing your arms. The walls were silent for a while. After that Brahms agreed. You sat down on an armchair next to Brahms doll, and began reading a book that you had prepared earlier. It didn't work for so long as the ghost of Brahms constantly asked questions. Not about the book, about you. He seemed very intetested, and asked many times about different things. Ghosts can be talkative.

"Okay, it's my turn to ask questions now" you closed the green book and crossed your legs, leaning back. "What do you look like Brahms?" You asked, looking around. He was silent for a good while before making the walls creak, as if someone had sat down just on the other side. "Bigger than pretty (Y/n)" The voice of the wall said. "It's taller, dummy" You corrected it with a smile.
"Why do you always say I'm pretty Brahms?" You lifted your shoulders shortly.
"You look better than me. Prettier" The child voice said, sounding a little sad.
"I beg to disagree" You said smugly, beliving that he can't be ugly as he says. It's a ghost of a kid, come on.
"Would you like to see, pretty (Y/n)?" The voice asked with anticipation, the walls thumping.
"Why not. Pretty please, show yourself" You smiled and leaned back into the chair. The walls began sounding again. The sound going around you, towards the painting. It suddenly fell down to the floor with a loud *plat*.
There was a hole in the wall. A pretty primitive looking one, compared to everything so nicely cut inside this house. It seemed to be as if someone had punched a hole into the wall.
You got a little un-easy starring at the wall. A hand slowly stretched from the inside of the hole, resting on the wooden wall. The hand seemed to help in pushing out another part of the body it belonged to. You got up, seeing as a fully grown man was pushing himself out of the wall. When he finnaly pushed through, he took a second to look around, possibly searching for you.

His hair was crazy curly and raven black. His clothes were pretty dirty, mostly because he was crawling in walls for such a long time. He wore something similar to a kardigan, a "white" tank underneath. His face was very interesting. He seemed to wear a porcelain doll mask. Pretty similar to the doll Brahms but not quite it. From under the mask, a pretty untouched beard peaked out.
"Who the hell..." you murmured quietly, stepping further away from the unknown guy.
"(Y/n)..." The child voice. It belonged to this pretty tall, full-grown male.
He must've been holding his throat tight so he could sound like a little boy. Like Brahms. It connected all in your head.

So Brahms never died...

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