Your POV:

Brahms outstretches his arms and places them on my shoulders. Next thing I know, I'm suddenly pulled into his embrace. It catches me by surprise that I almost completely forgotten why I was crying in the first place. Confused by his gesture, I stand as straight as a stick in his arms. Then I realize, this was Brahms' attempt to console me — with a hug.

It was certainly unexpected. I didn't know he was capable of feeling empathy. I mean, how could this man, who only knows anger, be trying to comfort me? Could he be changing?..Or perhaps he's always had this side to him, and I'm just now seeing it.

We were so close to one another that there was barely enough room to breathe. With each exhale, my chest nearly came into contact with his stomach. Because of this, I had to take short breaths. It causes my body to shake and I start hyperventilating.

Brahms notices and squeezes me tighter. Leaving no room between us now, my chest presses into him. Though I stopped shaking, my heart still beats fast. So fast that he could probably feel it pulsating against his body. Brahms lifts his chin and places it on top of my head. Now nuzzled under his chin, I can feel my face getting warm. A fluttery sensation grows in my stomach — it's the feeling I've gotten familiar with. It always makes its presence known whenever I'm close to him. A belly full of butterflies that alights whenever he's near.

I feel the vibration of his vocal chords as he speaks, "Please, Y/n. Tell me what's wrong."

I sink deeper into his arms and finally let out what I've been holding back, "I didn't know it would be like this...That you're still alive. After you told me what happened, I've been thinking a lot about it and—," I have trouble saying that last bit, "I'm beginning to having second thoughts..."

"Second thoughts?" Brahms asks.

"About you," I admit.

He goes silent and releases me from his arms. Brahms' hands rests on my shoulders as he lowers his head to be in level with mine. His stare is intense but, not intimidating. Trying to find sincerity in me, he looks deeper into my eyes.

Under his pressure, I make sure not to let myself crack.

"Your situation is different, so much more complex," I explain, my voice firm and stable, "It takes a lot of understanding. I don't see you as the monster everyone makes you out to be. It's hard to admit and it sounds crazy coming out of my mouth but, you're not a bad person Brahms."

His eyes were still searching for truthfulness in mine. So, I give him just that.

I stare back at him, without a blink or a stutter I continue, "You're misunderstood and have a lot of underlying issues that contributed to the way you grew up. It's not your fault."

When Brahms' eyes became glossy, that's when I knew he found what he'd been looking for. Brahms now knows and sees that I meant every word of what I said.

He looked as if he was about to cry until, my stomach decides to let out a loud and obnoxious growl. I tried to cover it with my hand to make it stop but, it went on for a good 6 seconds.

Brahms blinks away the water in his eyes as he asks, "You're hungry?"

Feeling a bit embarrassed, I turn my head to the side and nod.

Shortly after, I heard the cabinet open, followed by rustling. I watch as he pulls out the fruit snacks and a can of beans I had found earlier.

"Is that all you have?" I ask.

He nods.

After ripping the top of the can off, he dumps the contents into a bowl to warm up in the microwave. As it heats up, he hands me two pouches of fruit snacks.

Hesitantly, I take them both.

"You...gave me two..?"

"I know," he responds.

"O-okay then," I say, "I guess I'll just-," My fingers tear open the plastic. I dig my index finger in, trying to get a gummy out. After I get a hold of one, without even looking at what flavor it was, I plop it in my mouth. After having just one, I feel the urge to pour the whole bag in my mouth—but I can't...Brahms is watching. Trying to be ladylike, I continue eating them one by one.

When the microwave beeps, Brahms breaks his stare which gives me some time to shove as many gummies that could fit into my mouth. I barely chew and gulp them down quickly before he turns back around. Brahms places the bowl along with a spoon on the table for me.

"Aren't you going to eat?" I ask.

He shakes his head and pulls the chair out for me to sit, "It's for you."

Brahms hasn't eaten since the morning, like me, so he's definitely hungry too.

I take a seat and look down at the bowl, feeling guilty as I swallow the beans by the spoonful while he watches. I'm not a fan of beans but, this is better than nothing at all. It burns as it makes its way down my throat, but I'm too hungry to wait for it to cool down.

"There won't be enough food for the both of us tomorrow," I point out.

"Don't worry," Brahms replies, "We'll find something."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Hunting."

Oh yeah.

I take a few more bites before asking curiously, "Do you really hunt because you like it?"

"I don't really enjoy it," he replies, "My father is the one who taught me. He told me I needed to be prepared. I didn't realize what that meant until now. He taught me because he knew, one day, I'd eventually run out of food. Since I can't go out to the grocery store myself, I had to make due with the outside sources around me. Of course, there was Malcolm and Greta whom my parents left me with..."

Malcolm and Greta...He hasn't talked much about them. I cared to know more but, I figured I'd save it for another day.

"Deep down father knew it wouldn't work and, he was right. But, what he wasn't right about was thinking I'd end up dead or alone," he pauses and glances at me, "Who would've known I wouldn't end up as either..."

He pauses again before proceeding, "To answer your question, no I don't enjoy it. I hunt solely for food, not because I get satisfaction from it."

"But, what about the taxidermy?" I ask.

"The reason I practice taxidermy is because I found other ways to use the scraps; the part of the animal we didn't eat."

"I see...So that way nothing goes to waste," I say, "I guess I understand now but, I still don't agree with it."

Brahms shrugs his shoulders, "You do what you have to in order to survive."

I suppose he's right.

Brahms looks down at my bowl and sees that I had completely devoured it, leaving no trace of food ever being in it. He nods contentedly.

"Our day will begin early tomorrow so...Get some rest tonight," he says while walking away, probably heading back into the walls.

He was almost out of the kitchen before he stopped in his tracks, "I'm really glad you spoke up. It's nice...having finally found someone who understands me," he turns his head to the side and, softly, he mutters, "Goodnight, y/n."

He then turns his head back and I watch as he slowly disappears into the darkness.

...Goodnight, Brahms.