Shadows of the Night - Brahms Heelshire x Reader [The Boy 2016]

Chapter 2: First Day

You wake up on your floor, tangled in your clothes and dusted with the pulverized package of cookies. You groan and sit up, rubbing your eyes as you free yourself. You stand up and stretch, slide your headphones off, throw them on the bed, and massage your pinched ears. You grumble to yourself about your bad habit of falling asleep while listening to music. You grab a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt to change into and take a shower. You let your hair air dry as you neaten up a bit, shaking the crumbs off your clothes and throwing everything onto the bed so you can vacuum away the chunks of Biscoff cookie. You leave your room to look for the vacuum, your bare feet creaking on the old wood floors.

In the hall you pass Brahms' room and double back to grab the doll remembering rule two, to never leave Brahms alone. You step into the room, glancing around, feeling conflicted. The complete stillness of the house should make you feel lonely or a bit creeped out but for some reason, you don't feel alone at all. You shake the feeling of inexplicable comfort and pick the Brahms doll up gently and carry him on your hip like a small child or a laundry basket. You hum as you wander the halls with Brahms in your arms, finally locating the vacuum. You are faced with a dilemma, you can't carry both. You look at the vacuum cord and then at Brahms getting an idea. You tie the doll to the vacuum handle with the electrical cord and then drag the makeshift stroller/vacuum to your room.

When you see the contraption in the mirror you can't help but burst out laughing at what your life has become. You swear you hear a second voice join in on your giggling but when you stop you hear nothing so brush it off as early-onset cabin fever. You disentangle the doll and set him on the mountain of clothes on your bed.

"You're king of the hill huh Brahms?" you say looking at the doll.

He doesn't answer so you hum and nod knowingly as if he had.

"True, true. It has been quite a long time since we've played that game, but I was much better at it than you, that much I can remember," you say in an exaggerated voice, somewhat reminiscent of the Heelshire's posh accent.

"But I don't remember much..." you mutter to yourself as you plug in the vacuum.

You vacuum the floor and begin to put all of your things away as you basically treat the Brahms doll like the camera and you 'story time' a summary of your life since leaving the Heelshire estate and how you ended back up in the United Kingdom.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Brahms had hardly slept. Whenever he tried, his mind wandered back to y/n, who was back to him, and sleeping under the very same roof he laid under. He tossed and turned all night in his secret apartment, a wild smile on his face, pulling tight on his facial burn scars. He was nervous and excited, his heart thumping in his chest hard enough to choke him, his hand pressing against it as if to keep it from breaking through.

There were a lot of logistical issues he would have to figure out and fast, like how to shower without y/n hearing the running water, how to keep y/n from ever leaving him again, how to sneak around without her noticing so he can watch her as much as possible, and how to make sure his parents don't interfere with his plans. These thoughts and a thousand more filled his mind to nearly breaking that night. His world was full of light and sound again after so long living in the quiet dark, and y/n was his savior like she always had been.

The promise of a future with the girl he had loved since before he could remember, even a future where he has to keep hidden in the shadows, was more than he had ever let himself dream and here it was almost falling into his lap. He could barely let himself be happy about it, almost too scared to smile like the universe would take it as a sign to punish him for daring to covet what he doesn't deserve. And he knows he doesn't deserve y/n, but he selfishly needs to possess her anyways.