His Many Masks *The Boy fan fiction*

Chapter Six

"Trust is the first thing lost in a relationship, and the last thing earned."
                                 - anonymous

When I was a little girl, my mother used to tell me that strangers or anyone newly met were not people to share personal things with. As they could use it against you if you weren't careful. It was common sense to most, but when I was that young, I felt that I could trust everyone.

I kept that as my golden rule. I never told anyone about myself, not even stupid details that wouldn't matter if they were shared or not. That was until now.

Brahms stood before me. His eyes glinting an unfamiliar emotion as I gripped the sides of the counter. "I've never really told anyone about myself. I don't even know where to start." I felt like a child. I still didn't know why I was breaking my own rule and allowing a stranger like Brahms to be an exception.

"Tell me your name?" Brahms said.

I fiddled with the sleeve of my jacket "Kátalin."

"Your age?" He asked sharply.

"I'm nineteen years old." I blurted, "I'll be twenty next month." My eyes widened in realization, I'd be twenty in a month. A wave of sadness came over me as I thought about my old birthdays. I'd most likely be stuck here for my birthday.

Brahms was silent after that, as if he was thinking about something important.

"Why are you on the run?" He asked. I felt embarrassed, I never thought of my self as "on the run" but that basically was what I was doing. Running away from my life. "I uh, moved out of my parent's house when I was fifteen and moved in with a friend until about three months ago." I kept my eyes trained on my hands that were picking mercifully at my jacket. That was half right.

"Anything else?" I asked, not wanting to go any further into who I was.

"Where are your parents?" Brahms asked. My breath caught in my throat. My parents were dead. I could think it, but I couldn't say it. It was too hard. I clutched at the counter and squinted my eyes shut, "they're-", I tried to finish, but my voice wasn't there. I began to get frustrated and angry with myself. They had been dead for years but for some reason I found it so hard to speak it aloud. I opened my mouth, but only sounds of unfinished words came out. I yanked on my hair and dug my nails into the skin on my arms. Say it! Say that they're dead! My eyes began to fill with tears, and my lip began to quiver. I couldn't move my mouth.

Brahms slowly walked towards me. Already embarrassed, I attempted to shield my face from his, and hide my pain away I didn't want his sympathy, I wanted to be left alone. I made a mistake opening my vault of a mind. Brahms placed his hand on my back. I shuttered at his touch, anger bubbled inside of me. If it wasn't for him asking me about my parents, I wouldn't be in the emotional state that I am.

As if he could read my mind, he knelt down and whispered in my ear, "mine are gone too." His words were muffled by the mask, but I knew what he said.

As if a switch had been flipped, my opinion of him changed immediately. Most of my questions over his behavior were answered in that simple statement. He didn't have parents anymore. People deal with and process grief different. He was no exception.

"I-I'm sorry," I choked. I genuinely felt bad for him, and regretted thinking of him in a negative light like I have. Brahms rubbed a small circle motion on my back before standing up. My cheeks reddened at his gesture. No man had ever done that to me. It erupted something inside of me but I tried to ignore it.

"I'm not."

I furrowed my brows, but I didn't blame him. It was better that my parents were dead as well. Even if I missed them.