-I woke up to find out Brahms was no longer in his own bed, and rather the doll was in his place, as if he was trying to sneak out somehow. I can't help but snicker as I approached the toy, it's cracked face looking at the ceiling with a burning hatred in it's fake eyeris'. I glance around the room, checking the bookcase for any differences in the chance that he's hiding in the walls to watch me, before I pick up the doll and cradle it to my side.

-Of course the game ends when I step into the kitchen and I spot Brahms struggling with the curtains on the window; having not had much experience with them before. He had been living in the walls.. Speaking of the kitchen however, there were candles lit in the middle and plates of slightly overcooked meals sitting at each chair. I can't help but smile and set the doll in a spare seat.

-"What's this Brahms?" My voice causes him to jump, knocking the entire curtain down with the hooks and blinding my eyes woth daylight. I bring shade to my face with my hand, blocking it off and looking at his silhouette. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

-"right." His voice goes from deep to childish in seconds, and he clears his throat after. "W-Wanted to surprise you."

-"Well, I'd have given you more time if Brahms wasn't already dressed for some reason." I look at the doll. "Or, him? The young one.. I'd be dressing him otherwise." I look back at Brahms, who had previously reached down and is now holding the railing his hand. He looks at the ground. "Need help with that?"

-He nods, and so I round the table and he's lifting it up. Being much taller than I am, I get on my toes to just be able to reach, and soon enough the curtains are blocking out the sunlight. I look up at him, and I notice how the light sinks in to a very specific crevice, the crack lining from the top of his head, the inside of his right eye and then the side of his cheek. I reach up, my finger tracing it from beneath his eye and then to the side of his face. He tilted his head to look at me, trying to read my expression as I look him up and down.

-"You're wearing something fancy." A white button up with suspenders and a black bowtie, dressed like he's ready for a date or something. "Is there a special occasion?"

-"...I made breakfast."

-I smile, nodding, and looking up at him. "Well I bet it'll taste better than mine." I say, patting the side of his face calmly before I walk over and take my seat, and he sits to take his own.

-He's staring at me as I take my first bite, making sure he did well. It had a bitter taste, making me a little uncomfortable, but regardless it tasted good when I get past the mildly burnt edge. I smile at him.

-"How come I never learned how good of a cook you were?" I ask, and I can see his eyes crinkle through the mask as he smiles at me. Cute. "I really appreciate this Brahms."

-He nods, then looks down at his meal. Go back to mine, recognizing how important it is to compliment him when he puts in effort like this. He doesn't seem like the type to take care of me when he's so used to being cared for.

-I made sure to mind my own business when he moved his mask to the side of his face, hiding his features from me as he started eating his own meal. Then he grunts, acting like his own cooking was bad. Probably the burnt texture; he's always seemed to be picky on certain foods.

-"Lied to me." He mutters, and I shake my head although he can't see me.

-"You might not like it, but I like it. Everyone has different taste buds. Do you want me to whip you something up?"

-"...Yes?"

-I snicker, standing up and taking his plate from him. "Great, cause now I can get seconds of your wonderful cooking." I say, leaning over and popping a kiss at the top of his head before approaching the fridge.

-11am, play hour. He refused to go outside after what had happened yesterday, too frightened about getting caught in the way that he did. Instead we stayed inside, sitting around a board game that only old people tend to play; chess. (If you're not old and you play chess congratulations you just got called old by a 420 year old get rekt. Even though I just spent fifteen minutes playing chess with a robot to figure out how chess even works)

-Of course, regardless of my experience or not I let the man win, to the point that he let me win since he started feeling bad. Then he chalked it up that I didn't know how to play, and then he was educating me the ins and outs of the rules. How the Rook only goes vertical and horizontal, how the Pawns move forward and attack diagonally. He seemed very excited when I actually put effort in it, and even though I still lost in the end anyways, he liked the challenge.

-"How about we do something else exciting?" I ask, after our fiftieth game in half an hour. "You recall writing that book, right? You're a great story teller.. How about we try making tales?"

-He nods, getting up and walking over to a large cabinet. He takes out papers, a few pencils and some drawing supplies, before he walks back over to me and watches me carefully put the chess game back. Once all is clean, he sets these papers down and hands me half of the stack he took. Part of me becomes nervous, regretting the suggestion as I realize that I can't come up with a story off the top of my head. But it'll keep him occupied, keep my brain from losing it's sanity from playing chess for a literal hour. Half of thar hour was mind numbing enough.

-I put effort into the drawings I make as they come to me, maybe too much effort(much like how the writer is putting too much effort into this story and it's near damn embarrassing :/ ). But after fifteen minutes, Brahms his stapling together his own little book. He seems like a creative guy, having had so much time to think and watch people. It's interesting to see what's going on in his head, especially as I read the book out loud back to him.

-A story about a king and a queen -- characters probably having been inspired by our recent game of chest -- living with one another in a large castle. It's a surprisingly nice story, in comparison to the murderous intent that I've seen just about a week ago. It's odd, all the things we've done since then. Things that make me realize how human he still is. I can go ahead and say that he's just troubled, but that'd be the wrong label in a sense. He's troubling; and traumatized, unkept and has lived his childhood without nurture and care. Yet all it takes for him to keep his act straight is to follow his rules, keep him company. It's rather easy to keep along with, especially since it's kept me safe in the end, making me take care of myself better than I ever have before.

-If I really wanted to dig deep into it, the man was a walking red flag and I was blind as a bat. The possessiveness, not letting me leave, the jealousy that was brought upon his eyes when I told him Candy was in love with me. But in the end, I have to say that I understand somehow. I understand the loneliness, the fear of the outside world. I understand where he comes from, and given I know some of his history, I can most certainly say without a doubt that I'm not going to hold anything against him.. I will stay with him, and today is the day that I agree that I won't leave, no crossed fingers, no lies. (It's the Stockholm syndrome for me)

-"See? I told you that you make great stories... Here, I'll show you mine. Just be aware that it's no where near as good as yours."

-Reading consisted of Brahms reading a novel, specifically a romance one that he pointed out from the bunch. Of course, when he had me read it with him he heard a lot of me making fun of the cheesiness of it, and then me making fun of the inaccuracies. When the woman says no it means no, Brahms; not playing hard to get. Men were so dumb back then.

-Then it came to music appreciation, and I stood in the middle of the room as Brahms placed a record on the player. It was a slow, soft song, and I could tell by all the vibes today that he wanted to do something specific. When he walked up to me, he offered both hands to mine in a silent question, and I placed my palms in his. He was kind about it, his arm snaking around my body and the other holding my other hand tight. He was taking the lead, my other hand going to his bicep, and I followed him.

-"He muttered, his deep voice making me shiver a little. ""

-"Thank you." I whisper, and I finally look up into his eyes. "You've been on your best behavior today.. Haven't pouted once... I want you to know how happy I am about that."

-He hums, his head cocking to the side slightly even as we move in the opposite direction. The violin in the song speeds up just slightly, yet still the song was strong, keeping up with our flow. His hand grips the shirt on my back. Then he leans down to me, as awkward as it might be, his forehead rests against mine, and I smile.

-"When I said something about timing yesterday I didn't expect you to try to set the mood." I state. "I didn't expect you to even bother, neither."

-"

-His deep voice was such a contrast to his usual childish demeanor, and it was almost like he was someone completely different. He acted like a grown man, a gentleman, rather than a child, and I had to admit that I enjoyed it. Not that I don't enjoy being there for him, taking care of him. It gave me life the purpose I had lost when I lost Sarah. To be fair, I was taking care of her most of the time, so this just came to me naturally. Following an order without question.

-His hand leaves mine and he's picking me up, keeping his arms beneath my legs and lifting me up to have me a foot higher. He looks up into my eyes, my hands cupping his face. Then he stops moving, his feet still and his eyes searching mine. This would be the right time, wouldn't it? And he set it all up just for my comfort.. I smile down at him.

-"Kiss?" I ask, and he nods, his curls bouncing on his head, and thus I lean down. Our lips are an inch away, and I can hear his breathing pick up, his eyes closing, my eyes closing as well--

-There's a sudden crash in the other part of the manor, close by. Brahms instinct caused him to snap his head away in it's direction, and I lift my head back up. Then he's setting me down with an angry groan, his irritation building up. He put in all this work, just to have something interrupt such a perfect moment. Of course he's upset.

-"Hey, stay here." I say, looking up at him, and he peered down at me. "You've been working hard today.. It's probably just a vase that I set wrong. I'll be right back, capiche?"

-"--"

-"Relax, Brahms.. I'll give you a kiss when I get back." I tap his lower lip, and his eyes lighten just a bit as he nods at me. "Just be patient..."

-I smile before I turn and walk away from him, leaving the room. Found the source of the crash to be the front door window, and the door being wide open, snow seemingly falling in through the soft snowfall. I feel my body tense at the sight, and before I can call out to Brahms, a hand comes around and covers my mouth, refusing a scream. Then shushing as I struggle and get pulled back, I slowly calm when I figure it out. When I quiet, I turn around and see-- Candy.

-"Hey, hey!" Candy was still quiet, a whisper yell coming from her beet red lips. I furrow my brows at her. "L-Look, no hard feelings about before. You know they made me do all that, right? I never wanted to hurt you--"

-"You need to leave." I shake my head at her, feeling not only a sense of danger as I look at her but a sense of worry for her well-being; and that's not only the drugs. "L-Look, I don't like you, you get that right?--"

-"But I didn't want to hurt you!"

-"I don't care, Candy!" I raise my voice, and she shushes me so hard. "You came in here with the men who wanted to paint the floor red with my blood. If you don't leave, the man that killed Edgar and Billy is going to kill you--"

-"Is he holding you captive?? You know we can save you, right? We can save you from him, keep you safe--"

-"He's keeping me safe from you Candy! Why do you think I stayed?"

-The shot caught me off guard, making Candy and I jump and I shoot my head in the direction of Brahms, or where he is at least. Then suddenly I'm shoved into the wall, nimble hands grabbing at the collar of my shirt and then my neck. It would've hurt if her hands weren't so weak and bony. It doesn't take too much effort to take my leg and shove her back hard, her body landing against the other wall as I get my balance on my feet back. I bolt down the hallway, and then my heel skid across the ground as Henderson rounds the corner with a gun in hand. He aims straight for my head, and I'm just barely quick enough to crouch and dodge the bullet as it passes me and strikes into the wall.

-"No!" I hear Candy cry to me as I rush back down the hall, not looking over to pay attention to Candy getting into a struggle with Henderson.

-I ran into the first room I could, and I shut the door behind me with a slam. I grab the closest piece of furniture, pushing it up against the door with a cry of effort before looking around the room in a rush. Hiding spot, where to run--

-A distant gunshot makes me flinch, my eyes beginning to water as it gets harder to breath. My chest felt like it was crushing in on itself, but I didn't have the time to be panicking like this. I was on the run, again, and I wish I brought Brahms with me to the front door. Now I have no idea where he went.. But the first gunshot has me guessing.

-I am pushing things off the wall until I find an opening, and I get into the narrow space. Dust and spider webs stood before me, but not stopping my rush as I go through aimlessly. I'm trying to follow some sort of map in my head, getting to the music room, but this place is just so complicated, acting like a maze. I can hear Henderson calling for me, and as I rush through quick; a gunshot pierces right through the wall behind me and I squeal.

-"You're done runnin'!" Henderson yells at me. "You think you can just take money, then kill my friends?! Kill the only people I got?! YOU DON'T GOT THE RIGHT!"

-"FUCK YOU!" I yell back, crouching down in preparation for another shot.

-I was right to do so, the bullet piercing the wall above me. "You don't get it, do you?! You DESERVE to die! Sarah said it herself!"

-"Sarah talked a lot of shit, spit a lot of lies!"

-"Well that was the one thing she got right! You and your fuckin' six-foot-tall baby don't get to-to kill everyone I love just because Y'ALL DON'T GOT NO ONE!"

-I bust through the next opening, catching Henderson off guard as I barrel towards him and knock him to the ground. The gun slides across the floor, and immediately his sharp nails are at my throat. They do nothing but scratch at my collar bones, making me wince. The man was a damned cat at this point, but I didn't let his attacks falter me.

-My fist plummets into his face, staining his nose with red as soon as I hit him. Then I hit him again, and then he shoved me off by a foot. He gets on his stomach, which ends up being the worst choice of his as I get on his back and wrap my arm around his neck in a chokehold. I tighten my grasp, his fingers clawing at my arm as I tighten the grip. I hold my breath, ignoring the pain as blood draws on my forearm and drips onto the carpet. But soon he weakens, faltering, and then he goes limp. I hold that position for longer than I should've, probably crushing the man's windpipe, before I stand up. The blood dribbles down my finger tips, and I pant heavily..

-Brahms.

-I ran into the room and I slowed to a stop when I spotted Brahms laying on the ground in a growing puddle. He seemed unmoving, nearly dead, and his mask was snapped in the exact place I had taken a notice to in the kitchen this breakfast. I felt a shudder of a gasp overcome me when I see the burn marks on his face. Then his head turns slow, his body trying to lift off the ground as he looks at me. His breathing was slow and labored, and his hand reaches for me. Of course, I rush towards him.

-I sit on top of his lap, his eyes following me, glazed over with numbness and lack of conciousness. But even despite that, he's whispering my name, muffled by the mask but I can still hear him. Then my hands are placed on the bullet wound, and he whines so loud, grabbing my wrists with both of his blood covered hands and arching his back with agony written in his features; or at least the ones I can see.

-"I-I've got you Brahms, I've got you." I mutter reassurances, even as he sobs out painfully, his legs writhing and kicking weakly behind me.

-

Fuck, I don't know what to do. I just don't know.. Wait. One hand reaches into my pocket, the back one, and I pull out the thin phone, thanking the Lord that Brahms hadn't spotted it and tried to steal it from me before. It can't be the police, but it can be...

-The number dials, and I can feel Brahms pant heavily beneath me in a panic. "No, no police." He begs in a weak whisper.

-"No, no. Someone better.." They pick up. "Loki?"

-"...(Y/N)?"

-"I need your help."