Brahms crouches down and beckons me with his arm to draw nearer. We stealthily move over to another tree, not far from where we had laid the traps.

" Lay low," he whispers, " and try not to make too much noise," he adds.

As soon as he says that, a muffled high-pitched noise starts beeping from the back pocket of my jeans. Brahms' head whips in my direction. With a gloved index finger over the lips of his mask, he hushes me.

" Sorry," I apologize as I quickly take my phone out to silence it. As I do, I find out what all the beeping was from. Notifications for emails from a few days ago came flooding through.

I gasped out of relief knowing that I finally had reception.

" Did you know that there would be reception down here?" I asked Brahms.

He nods hesitantly in response.

" That would've been nice to know earlier," I say, " Why didn't you let me know?"

" I figured you might ring the police," Brahms pauses for a moment and then looks at me for confirmation.

" I wasn't going to call anyone or say anything," I reassure as I look back down at my phone.

Since I can only get reception this far out, I should take advantage of it. I made sure to read all the emails my professor sent. He had been wondering why I haven't submitted an update on my documentary. As I was writing an email back, I felt Brahms' eyes peering over my shoulder. Reading every word I write out.

"Hello Professor,

I am sorry for responding back so late. I had not been able to reach you due to my location's poor reception. The documentary on the Heelshire's is coming along just fine."

I hit send, not knowing what else to say. As I put my phone away, my ears pick up the sound of rustling. Perhaps an animal is nearby. I turn my attention to Brahms who must have heard it too. He ducks down low, eyes squinted as he searches for movement in the tall grass.

" See anything?" I whisper.

Brahms nods, " Over there," he points.

I follow his finger over to an area between some pine trees.

It takes me awhile to find the animal since its fur blended in with the grass and soil around it. At first, all I saw was a brown blob. But as the animal moves into another position, I notice the long pointed ears and puffy tail.

The rabbit props itself on its hind legs, black eyes staring in more directions than we humans can. It stands only a few feet from the traps, hypervigilant. At the loud cracking of thunder and sudden downpour of rain, the rabbit moves frantically, landing perfectly into it's own demise as the teeth of the trap snap shut onto it's feet. The rabbit shakes compulsively with it's squeals being drowned out by the noises of the storm. I hurry over to its side to end its suffering but, before I do, I turn around to warn Y/n. I see that she had already turned her back to me and I could just picture the look on her face. Either that of disgust or sadness... Perhaps a mix of both.

My hands wrap around the neck of the rabbit and with a quick snap, it's finally put to rest. I had practically became immune to this since I've done it more times than I can count on my fingers and toes combined.

I quickly release tonight's dinner from the trap and run back to Y/n.

She turns around to face me with saddened eyes as she catches a glimpse at the dead rabbit in my hand. Her lips dip into a pout and with the rain, it was difficult to tell whether she was crying or not.

" Can we please get out of here?" She asks, her voice so soft that I had to read her lips to understand what she was saying.

With another strike of lightning followed by even louder roars of thunder, Y/n flinches in terror. The storm seems to be approaching closer. Without a second thought, I grab Y/n's hand and run. Being in a forest full of trees in this weather is a disaster waiting to happen. I had to get her out of here as quickly as possible. As we run, we stumble over the debris of fallen tree branches as the force of the heavy winds pushes against us. I had to hold tighter onto Y/n's hand to help keep her feet on the ground.

The way back felt much longer than it had taken to get there but, we eventually make it back in one piece. We burst through the front doors, panting out of breath. As we look around, we notice that all the lights in the house were out. It wasn't completely black inside but, it was still difficult to see.

" Power outage," I groaned, running a hand through my hair in annoyance.

I hoped it wouldn't stay out for too long, otherwise, the meat would rot and we'll be left with nothing to eat.

" Let's look for a flashlight first, and then we can figure out where to go from there," Y/n suggests.

I nod in response, completely forgetting that Y/n can't see me in the darkness.

" I know where to find some," I speak out, " Stay right here and I'll go get them."

As I begin walking, I map out the layout of the house in my mind to help guide me through the darkness. There should be a drawer somewhere close by. I place one arm out in front of me, the other still held onto the dead rabbit. I begin inching forward. The drawer should be over to my left. As I turn, my fingertips come in contact with some wood. I feel around for a handle and pull, reaching inside for anything that feels like a flashlight. Once I find one, I turn it on, illuminating the space around me.

" Oh good, you found it," Y/n says.

As I turn to face her, the light shines in her direction, blinding her. Lifting her hands up, she shields her eyes.

I quickly point the flashlight to the floor in front of me.

" Jeez Brahms, you didn't need to show it to me like that," Y/n states as she comes over to me, gently rubbing her eyes.

Y/n then browses through the drawer and takes out a pack of matches. She pulls out a stick and as she begins swiping it onto the side of the box, I feel the muscles in my body grow tense. Each sparking of the matchstick strikes a feeling of fear and anxiety within me. Once fully lit, she uses it to light the candles above the drawer.

" Now, we should find a way to cook that," Y/n suggests, staring at the rabbit, " So we can finally eat and so you don't have to keep holding it around."

I nod.

" Well..." she says, " What do you suggest we do?"

" I don't know..." I shrug.

" Do you have a fireplace we can use? Maybe we can start a fire and use it to cook."

Fireplace. Fire. Hearing those words trigger me. I could feel beads of cold sweat forming from the surface of my skin.

I nod hesitantly as I lead the way into the room.

Brahms has been acting a bit strange. I noticed his apprehensiveness but chose not to point it out.

When entering the fireplace room, I notice how much open space there was. Not much was in there besides a tan woven rug and a burgundy velvety couch with some throw pillows and blankets. I kneel in front of the fireplace and observe. It looks like it hasn't been used it years.

" Got any wood?" I ask Brahms.

I hear nothing but silence in return. Thinking that Brahms must've left, I turn around to see that he was still there and yet, he hadn't ever moved from the doorway.

" Brahms," I call.

" Y-yes?" he responds, voice almost resembling a child's — sounding the exact same as when I first met him.

" Are you going to help or are you just gonna stand there?"

" There should be some wood in the closet," he responds.

" What closet?"

" Out in the hallway."

" Brahms," I say as calmly as I can to control my growing frustration, " We were just in the hallway."

I shake my head as I walk up to him. I hold out my hand and he passes me the flashlight. I brush past him and go into the hallway to retrieve the firewood myself. When I come back, Brahms is still standing there; statuesque. I place the flashlight down and put the wood inside, lighting it up with the matchstick. Lucky for me, it was the type of fire log that burns fast so, it didn't take long for me to start.

After that, I stand up, facing my body towards Brahms and looking at him with dull eyes. Seconds go by and he finally makes his way over ever so slowly.

" What's your problem?" I ask him.

As he approaches closer, I get a better look at him. His eyes expressed a type of feeling I have never seen in him before: fear.

The light from the fire reflects in his eyes. And that's when it hit me.

How could it take me so long to realize it?

The sole reason for wearing a mask, the thing nearly killed him...Brahms was scared of fire!

It's no wonder why he acted so strange when I was lighting the candles. And when he didn't help me start the fire. That near death experience basically traumatized him.

Feeling horrible, as if I had just accidentally stepped on the paw of a puppy, I apologize to him.

" Oh my gosh, Brahms. I'm so sorry... I-I totally forgot--."

Brahms cuts me off and in his soft, childlike voice he forgives me, " It's okay, Y/n."

Though I didn't want to cook the rabbit myself, I'm not about to make someone with pyrophobia do it for me. That's insensitive. I'm no therapist so I'm not exactly sure how to cure it but, I could try and get him used to being around it... Exposure therapy is the proper name for it.

" Why don't you put the rabbit down for now and take off your jacket so it can dry?"

Brahms places the rabbit on the ground and removes his jacket, along with his gloves and boots. He hands them to me and I lay them out in front of the fire. Taking off my trench coat and boots to dry as well.

" Here," I say as I walk over to the couch, " Let's just sit in front of the fire for awhile, okay?"

He nods, " Okay."

As we take a seat, I sneak a glance at Brahms. His eyes glued to the fireplace in front of us. In his lap, he fidgets with his fingers. His knee bounces uncontrollably. Reluctantly, I move my hand to lay over top of his. They were tiny in comparison as I wrap my fingers around them and give a gentle squeeze. Brahms then lets go of his own fingers to get a better hold of my mine. Though we sat in silence, with the crackling of the fire serving as white noise, it was quite calming. Brahms must have found it to be as well. When I look up, I see him nodding off to sleep. It makes me chuckle, seeing his head drop just to pop right back up. Soon enough, Brahms is out like a light. I grab one of the throw blankets and cover him with it.

While watching Brahms sleep, I find myself in a daze.

" Brahms," I whispered suddenly, " I think I'm falling for you."