-Living life caring for a porcelain doll that was supposedly possessed by the soul of a deceased child that died twenty tears ago was certainly a special way to live, I'd admit. But to have that change to living life, caring for a grown man who had recently killed two people the other night like a five year old? That, was certainly something special. Especially when I woke up to him watching me sleep; and I screamed like a damn bitch and rolled right out of the bed. I landed on the floor, just barely catching myself before my nose hit the boards, and I froze on the ground for a moment before I felt his hands touch my shoulder blades.

-"(Y/N)?" He asked innocently, and I sigh out of frustration and genuine concern for my own safety.

-"Yes, Brahms?"

-"Breakfast."

-I nod silently, and I get up on my knees. As gentlemanly as he is, he offers his hand to me, and I hesitantly take it. I am brought to my feet in an instant as he reaches down to me and picks me up, his other hand landing right on my midriff to do so. I can't help but shudder, but all while shuddering I let go of him and make him step back a foot.

-"Alright, I'm going to have to make my own rules here." I say, looking up at him, and his head cocks slightly, a subtle sign of him telling me I'm listening. Either that or he's saying who the fuck do you think you are? I don't know him well enough to tell. "So, uh... How about you don't stare at me while I'm sleeping in wait of me waking up? That's a big no no."

-"...Okay." I barely heard him speak to me, it was just above a whisper.

-"Alright.. Stay at least a foot or two away from me, personal space." My fingers push into his chest and he loosely shifts back, letting me control him and his movements. He was much like the doll itself in that sense. "And.. How about we don't kill anyone else? Even if they're trying to kill me. Killing people isn't good." With that final statement, he blinks at me, almost confused, but then nods shortly. "How about you also help with the chores, hm? Help me make breakfast."

-How I'm managing to keep my composure standing before this man, I can't even begin to explain the answer to that. He took my hand in his as I took the lead, linking his fingers with mine. I couldn't help but glance back at him, glancing at our connected hands and then back forward. I decide not to question it, feeling like he does it just to make sure I don't run, or maybe he does it because he hasn't touched someone in a long time. After all, this place has been unkept for two years straight; and I can tell that much by the dust. I'm probably foreign to him, unreal, and I popped up right in his house.

-"You've been alone here for a long time, haven't you Brahms?" I asked, looking up at him, and he nodded shortly in response. "Does anyone know that you're here?"

-Brahms shakes his head, then looks down at me. His eyes peering into mine cause my breath to cut short, and I have to look away. I feel overwhelmed looking at him, feeling his eyes on me, and it didn't feel too good. It felt like I was looking into the eyes of death every time. Regardless of how he basically saved my life yesterday, I still felt uneasy with him near me, the sight of blood all over his face replaying in my mind. It was difficult to remove.

-"Well, I know.." So does Candy and Henderson, and probably the grocery lady. "So, you've lived here for.. Your whole life I'm guessing?" I glanced over to him in time to watch him nod, but as he did so, we walked into the kitchen. "The you must really know this place.. I haven't even explored half of it."

-The small talk was beginning to make me anxious, even as he follows me to the fridge. He's picking it all out for me, setting it up on the counter, as well as some mix from the upper cupboard, before he looks expectantly at me. I know exactly what he wants; the whipped cream and syrup sitting next to the pancake mix, plus ect., brought me the idea. I nod at him, and I reach into the pots and pans cupboard.

-"Alright, uh.. Get me a couple of bowls Brahms." I state, and he does exactly as I ask him to, a mixing bowl being set down on the counter with the other ingredients. "Get something to grease the pan for me."

I glance at his hands at they reach up once more, grabbing some things that will grease the pan that looks very fancy, I can't even read the name over how horrible the cursive looks. The letters are pushed far too close together, but Brahms seems to read it just fine. I step aside and he begins to grease the pan himself, surprisingly doing very well for looking like the type of guy who doesn't know how tod o anything but microwave pizza rolls. Honestly I should've expected him to be capable like this; this is his house after all. Which reminds me..

-"How have you been paying the bills for this place?" I ask, and he turns to look at me, eyes widening at question. I bite the inside of my cheek, feeling like I pushed a nerve, before he straightens up and looks off in the distance as if I told him the scariest damn question in the world. "Have you just? Not been paying bills??"

-"...No."

-"How are you still here even?? I don't think you go out and work, do you?"

-He runs his hand up along his neck before looking down at me. I look away, taking a deep breath in before sighing as I recognize there wasn't going to be an answer for that. It'll just have to be a large plot hole that the writer is going to ignore; much like how Brahms killed Cole two years ago and Greta and Malcolm probably would've called the police. The writer is not going to get into that. But they know their plot holes. They are aware.

-"Okay, well.. I guess a better question is how you managed to live all by yourself for such a long time. I'm assuming you've been alone since.. Since forever I guess. You do realize people are social creatures? Living alone every second of the day for years could drive you insane."

-But of course, insane is what he kind of was. The man bashed in the heads of two different people like an impulse and then begged me to stay with him afterwards. Any sane mind would've left, running away from him regardless of the snow bringing blackness to their feet. Sent him to the authorities.. I guess I'm pretty insane too.

-"Can you grease the pan for me Brahms?" He does so slowly, and next thing I know, we're making pancakes for breakfast.

-Golden brown, with whipped cream on top right along with a slice strawberry on top of his. We sit the plates down and Brahms sits in the chair next to mine, the one I usually sit in. However, he doesn't eat, his hands holding the silverware, but the man is staring at me directly. I feel a sense of dread feeling his eyes on me, and eventually I gotta speak up.

-"Why are you staring at me?" I ask, looking back at him. "Eat your food Brahms, before it gets cold."

-He looks down at his food, then back at me. Lifting the plate off the dining table, he turns away from me in his chair and lifts the mask up a couple of inches. The straps around the back scruff up his dark curls, and then he's eating. I don't dare be curious, knowing he's hiding his face for a reason. I think it could be insecurities, or that he's trying to hide his identity. But it's not like I already know at this point.

-I finished my plate quickly regardless of the fact that my appetite was gone. I stand up, my chair shifting beneath me and I can feel eyes on my back as I carry it to the sink. I rinse the syrup off, and then I grab the sponge before Is tart scrubbing. Fresh whipped cream and maple syrup, all rid of off the top of the porcelain plate and into the sink's drain. Then, I set it in the rack, and then continue to clean an extra amount of wears. I clean the mixer we used, a few forks from yesterday's meals that I hadn't bothered to clean, and many other things. Then, I clean a kitchen knife, and as I rinsed it off and brought it into the light, it glistens in shine with water dripping off the tip. I jump a little as Brahms stands up quickly, his chair falling over, and I look at him.

-He looks defensive, having taken a step back from me, and he was staring me deep. He set the plate down at least, but the fork and butter knife plummeted onto the floor. He was so tense, his hands next to his sides as if ready to protect himself. Then I realized, he was scared of me. Scared of some sort of betrayal. He's scared of me just as much as I'm scared of him. The question is, is do I want him to be scared of me? Or do I want him to trust me, for us to grow closer, for me to have a companion of this size that actively took lives to protect mine.. I think I'll choose the ladder.

-I set the knife in the drying rack and I show him my hands, raising my brows. "Hey, hey. It's okay.. I'm not going to hurt you." I assure him, and although he's still staring at me hard, I watch as he slowly falters, chest heaving slower. "If I wanted to hurt you, I'd have done it by now. I know that you would've hurt me too, right? Why would I wait this long??"

-His eyes shift from my face to the knife, then back to me. His arms finally still, and he brings his hands to his front. He looks down at his fork and knife, and then at me. I simply grab him another for each, and I set them down by his plate. I slowly crouch down and lift the dirtied silverware off the floor before taking it back to the sink. I clean them off quick, before I sit down at the dining table and put both hands on the table. I look up at him expectantly, noticing that he's been staring the entire time. I suppose I should get used to this, since he's been looking at me every chance I get.

-Rather than eating however, he picks up his plate and sets it in the freezer, half eaten pancakes soon to be his later meal. He turns to me, his arms hung by his sides. "Study." He tells me, childish voice nearly demanding but just informative.

-"Alright." I stand up slow, and then I step before him, pushing the chair back into the table. "Pick up your chair for me Brahms, don't want to leave the kitchen messy."

-He stares at me, tilting his head before he reaches down and sets it back up. He's gifted a smile from me, and that prompts him to speak: "Am I good?"

-"Yes, Brahms." So far.

-"You won't leave?"

-"No." I shake my head.

-"Ever??"

-"Let's go to the music room Brahms." I attempt to make my way out of the kitchen, but I am stopped, a large hand wrapping around my wrist. I look at him, trying to put on my parent face, but it doesn't work too well. "Brahms."

-"You won't leave me. Promise."

-My lips part slightly, eyes exploring his as I'm trying to get past his sudden possessiveness. I don't know if that's a promise I can make, but I make it anyways, crossing my fingers behind my back just in case I regret this. "I promise, Brahms."

-With that, he seems to relax, just a little bit. Then, his hand goes from my wrist to my palm. His fingers lock in with mine and he steps forward towards me, his chest closing in towards my face. I look up at him, listening to his breathing grow in heaviness, before I frown a little.

-"Personal space Brahms." I make him step half a foot away, and he drops his head, before he continues walking towards the music room.

-Following the personal space rule seemed to be a difficulty for the man. To be fair, I understand he hasn't had human contact in a very long time, but still. He can be capable of understanding, having already listened to my commands already.

-I'm sitting in the chair in the library, staring at him as he reads over the book. On occasion he faces the book towards me and asks me what certain words mean, and to be honest some of them I don't know, but I read back on the context quickly and sometimes give him my guesstimate. Other times he asks me about simple things that he ought to already know, though, and I'm thinking he's asking just because he wants to listen to me talk.

-When he isn't asking me questions, I'm half reading my own book, half listening to the music, and another half keeping an eye on him as to make sure he didn't plan on betraying me soon. This time around, I got grabbed into the book, the story had it's hands wrapped around my head and I couldn't tear my eyes off of it. I stretched my legs forward off of the chair and comfortably sprawled, my heels resting on the floor, then I dragged them back in and sat normally. I didn't notice Brahms getting up and walking in front of me until he touched me.

-I moved my book out of the way, his chin say comfortably between both of my knees and his eyes peered up through the mask. He looked kind of like a puppy, a surprisingly cute one-- What the fuck? Did I really just call this man cute?? That's about the second time I've thought of him as anything other than a murderer who lived in the walls.

-"Hello? What's wrong Brahms?"

-He does nothing but give me a short whine, a humph even, as his hands come up and rest on my thighs. Elbows just on the other sides of my knees, forearms on top of my thighs right along with his hands.. His fingers cupping the inner sides of them, gently, yet in a position as if he were to pry them open-- My God where was my mind?

-"I don't know how to give you want you want if you don't tell me." I tell him, but I'm almost worried that I think I know what he wants. If he's doing this to toy with me; there was a stir of nervousness and slight arousal that thought sent into me. "Speak to me Brahms."

-He's quiet, eyes drifting away before he looks up at me with these puppy dog eyes. "Hug?"

-A hug? Is that what this guy wants?... Do I want to give him one? What would he possibly be able to do to me, anyways? Fuck it, honestly.

-"Yes, sure. Get up Brahms." I say, and he looks surprised, before he shoots up on his feet and bounces on his toes a little. He's excited, a bit too excited, and this excitement grows as I stand up. "Don't try anything mischievous."

-"I'm good." He tells me, just before his arms wrap around my shoulders tightly.

-His masked face buries into my neck and the amount of affection I'm given as his body crushed into mine is just overwhelming. I didn't think his hug would feel so wonderful, and I reckon that maybe I needed it too, just as much as he did. I was slow to hug him back, my arms wrapping around his body and holding him tight.

-"Thank you." The little boy voice cooed close to my ear, and I hum back.

-"Of course Brahms.. Thank you for asking first. Asking first is always good." I much prefer this than him abruptly grabbing me, and I'm wondering why he did when he could over power me so easily. "Are you okay?"

-He hummed a Mhm, letting me know his answer, before I simply stand, letting him hold me just as much as I hold him. He was comforting, other than his heavy breathing, his arms made me feel an odd sense of safe.

-I have asked this question once already, but I just had to ask. "Brahms.. Would you ever hurt me?" I ask.

-"...No. I protect you." His face turns slightly, porcelain nose pointed under my ear.

-"Yeah, but.. I-If I made you mad.. Would you hurt me then?"

-"I promise, I'm good. I won't hurt you." He tells me, hugging tighter. "Never ever."

-How he'd manage that kid voice so well was beyond me, and it made me almost giggle and shiver at the same time. However, I'm going to grasp for straws and take advantage of his word.

-"If you're lying, and you hurt me.. I can't trust you. Then I'll have to leave."

-The hug got tighter, almost too tight, and I could feel his hand grip my shirt so damned tight that I could feel my clothes tightening around my body. "" A deep grumbly voice rose from his chest, and it caught me so off guard that my arms around him nearly faltered.

-"Th-Then don't hurt me Brahms.. Not ever."

-"..." He breathes out into his mask, against my neck. "Promise."

-"Promise.." His arms weaken just slightly, and I count the seconds after.

-We stand there, him hugging me the whole time without anything interrupting us. Studies left behind us; we stay in that position(and shift here and there, given Brahms gets uncomfortable) until lunch.

-Finding something to do proved difficult after our lunch, but surprisingly my feet had carried me to the hole in the wall, in Brahms' room. He hadn't even bothered to pick up the shelf yet, and as I was looking at the doorway to God knows where he was making the effort to put the bookshelf back.

-"Can I go in there?" I ask, and he was halfway through picking it up when he froze, turning to look st me. "You live in there, I know, but.. I'm.. Curious." Curiosity killed the cat as they usually say, and I understand how stupid it is for me to want to explore the walls. But still, I just want to know. "If you don't want me to touch anything I won't, but I figured--"

-He puts the bookshelf back, covering up the entrance before he looks back to me, shaking his head. I press my lips together, nodding my head, and I look down at the ground, books laying all over. I crouch down silently, shuffling the books back into place and picking up a good amount, ignoring the random objects that fell along with the bookshelf. Slowly, Brahms joins me, picking up the things I'm ignoring and organizing his shelf like it's meant to be exactly how it is. It doesn't take long until the floor is bare, aside from the furniture and blood on the other side of the room.

-"Thank you for helping Brahms." I say simply, not thinking much of anything, but he looks to me with expectant eyes.

-"Kiss?" He asked me, and I looked at him.

-"What?" A pause. "Why??"

-"Kiss." He taps his fingers on his mask, stepping a foot closer to me, and lowering down just enough for me to reach his height. "Reward."

-Something about his voice is so sheepish and wavering, as if he were nervous, but he seemed so straightforward and confident in himself. I can't figure him out, and because I can't figure him out, I'm a bit scared of him and how he'd react to a rejection. Would it be wrong to also be curious of that too?

-"Alright." I move quick, getting on my toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek, before I get back to standing. The way he's looking at me is bordering on hilarious, as if I had done something wrong. "Good job Brahms." I pat his shoulder and I look to the stain. "We need to get some carpet stain removal.. How do you ask for things from the grocery deliver... Rer?"

-I look at him, and he's still staring at me, but eventually he looks away from me and walks out of the room silently. I'm a bit surprised, not expecting him to leave me alone even for a second, but now I stand completely silent and still. I kinda expected him to come back, but after five minutes he hadn't, and I imagined it'd be safe to assume he wouldn't be for s minute.