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𝚃𝚎𝚊
Time for me to make breakfast. I walked down the stairs, Through the halls to the kitchen. Tea. Brahms.
Brahms was making tea. Interesting. I looked over to the table And saw a plate of F/B (favorite breakfast). Brahms made breakfast And tea? Very interesting.
BRAHMS: tea.
(Y/n): Uh yeah.
He was pouring the hot water in teacup. I walked over To him and watched him make the tea. I started to lean my head On his shoulder. He opened one of the drawers and grabbed a Spoon and a teabag. I dipped the teabag In the teacup until he let it Sit in the hot water.
BRAHMS: milk?..
He whispered in his kid-like voice.
(Y/n): Oh, no thanks.
I said to him. He walked to the table with the teacup And snoop in his hands and sat down. He placed the teacup next To my plate and waited for me to sit down next to him. I walked over to Him and sat in my chair. He watched me eat and drink the food and tea He made. It wasn't that bad. 8/10. For a man that's lived in walls for most Of his life he surprisingly knew how to cook. We sat in a comfortable Silence until a question popped in my head.
