The Boy Movie Brahms Heelshire x reader FanFic

Don't leave me - Part 56

This Chapter is dedicated to @avacwho

You and Brahms sit across from each other in the library.    The sun is coming up, and the fire is roaring but you can't stop shivering.    It's taken hours to calm you down, and though you know what happened was a terrible hallucination brought on by diabolical magic, it felt so real and has left such a lasting mark on you that you just can't shake the horror of it off.   

After you'd finally stopped screaming and sobbing  in that tangle of bedding, Brahms had sat doggedly next to you as you took a bath, stroking your wet hair when you broke down, towelling you dry, helping you dress.   He'd even carried you downstairs then listened patiently as you shared the whole sordid experience.   You expected him to rage, shout, be angry; feared he'd even break things up or tell you you were crazy.   But he merely listened until you'd finished with a patience you never knew he owned.  

 Now, you sit with knees clasped tight, hunched over a glass of wine, knowing you can't go through another night in this house.   

You glance miserably at Brahms.   His face is solemn, unreadable.   Between you, on a small table, sits the dark stone you took from Joel's body.   

"I feel like I'm going insane."    With the faint twitter of birds outside, your remark seems inane but you can't think of anything else to say.   

Brahms says nothing.   He's dressed in a skinny black sweater, jeans and no shoes.   His dark curls tumble loose over his forehead, making him look so young you want to cry.   This all so unfair on him.  Why can't you both just be left alone to love and live your lives?   Why is your own life so fucked up that it's contaminating any chance of happiness for the future?    You knock back the dregs of the wine, then glare at that stone.  It gleams dully in the morning light and you wish you had a hammer to smash it to pieces.

"We have to destroy it, Brahms.   Take it somewhere  and lose it.  Crush it.  Burn it.  Throw it in the lake..."

"I've already done that."

"What?"

He leans forwards, both elbows on his knees.   "Yesterday.  I tried smashing it with a mallet, then a rock, but it wouldn't break.   So I threw it as far into the lake as I could.   Within hours it was back in this house, sitting on that very table."

You feel sick.   "This is all my fault.    If not for me, Joel would never have come here.   I should never have gotten involved..."   You heave yourself wearily to your feet.   "Brahms, I have to leave here.   Leave and take that thing with me.    So far, it's only attacking me...but it won't be long before--"

He's on his feet and holding you before further words come out.  You feel the play of muscles on his chest, the strength of his arms around you, his warmth and the scent of him.    You wonder what life would be without him, and know it would be unbearable now.   

"Don't cry, Y/N.    From now on, I won't let you out of my sight."

"But we can't live like this!"

"We'll find a way."

A horrible thought blossoms, and you suddenly go rigid and pull away from him.  "What if this isn't you!"   He stares down at you quizzically, and you see hurt in his eyes.  "Oh, God, Brahms, I'm sorry..."

He takes you in  a firm grip by both shoulders.   "You know me!    Look, at me, Y/N!"

But you can't.  You squeeze both eyes shut and refuse to meet his gaze.  "Remember what felt different," Brahms insists.  "The clues were there.   They were THERE!"

He's right.   The clues were there.    Oh, the replication was clever...but whatever conjured that other Brahms did so from the memories in your own head, and your own wild fantasies.   It had done all the things you most loved Brahms to do.   But  then you remember the way it had taken you -  with a mechanical deliberation that, when you drag it into reality, felt more like rape than love making.  

It was doing what it thought I wanted it to do.   But it couldn't copy any real emotion.   And it wouldn't remove the mask.  Because what lay beneath...  Oh, thank God it didn't remove that mask! 

 What would you have seen?   Brahms's face?  Joel's face?   Something unholy and horrific?  You gaze into the Brahms's oakmoss irises, the reddened damaged right eye, the expression there - caring, angry, protective.    In those eyes you see all the times you've fought and loved and learned about each other.   He cocks his head slightly  the way he always does when he's trying to read you.   It's a gesture that's so him, it breaks your heart.  You reach up and take his face in both hands then  murmur, "Tell me!"

He scans your own face with that little boy look, then whispers, "I need you, Y/N.  Please don't leave me."

You pull him close, knowing that a thousand demons could never break the bond you share.   "I won't, I promise.   I couldn't if I wanted to.    It's time to do some protection, Brahms.    Time to fight fire with fire."