Brahms' POV:

I got up from the chair to lay down in my bed. A knee bent, the other leg stretched straight across with my hands behind my head. Drowning myself in my own deep thoughts and worries. Soon, y/n is going to get better and try to leave me. I don't want that to happen. I can't let that happen. I have to find a way to make her want to stay. But how? For Greta, I had Brahms to help. Which had worked a little since she got attached to the him but, now that there's no doll anymore I don't know what to do. Then again, Greta only loved the doll version of me. Not the real me. Maybe that's what I have to do. Show y/n the real me. I shot up as the idea popped into my head. If I were to show her the doll, it'll just be a repeat of what happened before. I can't make that mistake again. The idea started to slowly diminish as I thought about how y/n must see me. In her eyes I was a monster, a cold-blooded murderer. Will she be able to understand?

I left my safe place and headed back to get y/n. Once I reached the kitchen, I didn't enter. Instead I stood, hidden at the side of the door. She had finished all her food. I watched as y/n brought her feet up, she hugged her knees to her chest. Her head buried in her arms. I heard the faint sound of a whimper, followed by a sniffle. As I brought one foot closer, y/n could sense my presence as she turned her head in my direction. When she saw it was me, her legs immediately came down, sitting in the position she was in before. I made my way to her and her posture grew stiff. As it always did, whenever I try to approach her.

"Don't cry, y/n. I'm not going to hurt you," I said as I walked closer.

I turned my body around and crouched down for her to get on so I could bring her back to the room. I kept that stance for awhile until I saw y/n at the corner of my eye. She walked past me on her own. I could tell she was still in pain, the way she kept staggering. She walked unsteadily as if she were about to fall. I followed behind as she tried to go up the stairs.

Your POV:

Without a word or a glance I walked past Brahms. I can make it up there myself. I walked, as normally as I could so that my pain was unnoticeable. A tear made its way out my eye, leaving a trail like a slug, on my cheek. I wiped it with the back of my hand and proceeded up the stairs. I looked at what was ahead, slightly regretting my decision as I looked at the three sets of stairs.

I took my first step, still as painful as before but I tried to suck it up. I kept going. I snuck a glance behind me, Brahms had his hands out ready to catch me if I were to fall. I went up so slowly, and he followed patiently behind. I made it a third of the way before my knees started to wobble. My ankles slowly giving up on me. I stopped for awhile, I didn't know how much longer I could go. Honestly, I think I'm making my injuries worse. I took a deep breath and continued. I was doing okay until out of nowhere my whole body shut down, all my energy had been drained. I stumbled back, Brahms catching me by my waist. I stood back up and was about to start walking again, but was stopped. I was lifted and carried up the stairs by Brahms, bridal style this time.

He walked with me in his arms so easily. I couldn't bring myself to look at his face but I know he was staring at me. Where exactly, I wasn't sure. My face started to burn up and that feeling in my stomach returned. I knew what it was but I tried to ignore it.

We made it to the room and he dropped me off. Brahms walked into the bathroom and came back with towels. I guess it was so I could take a shower.

He still stood there, not leaving.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked.

I looked at his eyes. They moved from me to the ground. He shook his head.

"Okay, I'm gonna get cleaned up then..."

He nodded and then left.

I locked the door to the room and started undressing until I was in my bra and panties. I brought my toiletries out from my suitcase and walked to the bathroom. I turned the shower on, playing with the knob until I got my desired temperature. I decided to keep the bathroom door open to air out the steam. I removed my black lace bra and slid off my matching panties. I entered, the water felt good on my skin as I lightly bathed myself, careful not to touch my bruises. Showering was therapeutic to me, the hot air, the droplets of water massaging my skin. I rubbed the vanilla scented body wash over my body. Starting from the bottom up. When I applied the body wash around my thighs I thought about Brahms. How his hand were gripping around them moments ago. How his skin felt against mine; soft and warm. I shook my head vigorously and scrubbed harder, as if trying to scrub away the dirty thoughts racing through my mind. When I finished, I dried myself off and put on a pair of black joggers and a white short-sleeved shirt with some socks.

Hours later...

I heard a knock on the door and walked over, looking through the key hole. It was Brahms. All I saw was his bottom half. I guess he took a shower too since he was now wearing a different pair of pants.

After all that's been going on in my thoughts, I didn't want to see him. I stepped away, hoping he couldn't hear the creaking of the floorboards as I walked back, into my bed and under the covers.

"I'm getting ready for bed, Brahms," I lied, not the slightest bit tired.

I heard the doorknob rattle slightly and then start to turn. I had left it locked from earlier so he couldn't get in. After that, silence. I got back up to look though the keyhole again to see if he had left. No sign of him anywhere. As I turned around, there the masked man was, just a few feet away from me. His head tilted slightly.

"Brahms!" I gasped out loud, hand on my chest. I felt my heart rate increase rapidly from shock, but also the fact that now I was able to see the rest of him. His hair was still damp from the shower. His curls, that looked good even when messily all over the place, clung to the forehead of his mask. He still had on a white shirt but this one was clearly too small for him. It was so tight-fitting around his broad shoulders and chest, but fit fine around his tiny waist. I swallowed the lump of spit that welled up in my throat.

"I thought you were getting ready for bed," he said.

My heart rate sped up even quicker, he rarely spoke so when he does, it catches me by surprise. His mask was of a boy yet his voice, far from one.

"I-I am," I said as I walked past him and stood near my bed.

"Okay..." he says softly, "I wanted to show you something. But, I'll save it for tomorrow and let you sleep."

I expected him to walk to out the door but instead he heads towards my closet, "Sweets dreams, y/n," he says. My ears pick up what sounds like another door opening. Brahms then continues walking, disappearing into the darkness.