First Person P.O.V - (Y/N)
Warning: Bath time

-Morning came, and I had walked into Brahms' room quietly. The man was still asleep, barely making any sound other than the breathing on the other side of his mask. It must be moist in there, irritating for him skin. But he still wears it, even while he sleeps, and it makes me wonder if he's ever taken it off.
-At this point I've convinced myself that it's a prosthetic, made incorrectly given actual prosthetic masks have an opening for the mouth and other places. But I can imagine that with how adamant he is about the mask that he's got some heavy insecurities, and I have to wonder what he looks like. But regardless, right now, he looks peaceful. His body no longer as tense as it usually is, and I'm finally getting the chance to see what it looks like. I had no idea how afraid of me he was, like I was going to turn around and make him regret keeping me alive at any second. I could do something now, leave him, take him out in his sleep, but I wouldn't have the heart to do either. Neither do I want to, really.
-I slowly reach over, my fingers gripping his shoulder and shaking him slightly. He jumped s little before turning to look up at me, eyes wide, and I put on the gentlest smile I can.
-"Good morning Brahms, it's time to wake up." He sits up slowly, eyes staring daggers into me as my hand stays on his arm as he does. "Did you sleep well?"
-He nods slowly, looking down at my hand before he takes it in his own. He drops his legs out from under the covers, socked feet padding against the floor before he stands up. I take the courtesy of making his bed back up for him afterwards, and I turn to him once finished tucking in the blanket. He's looking down at me, staring at my face with a look I couldn't quite make out.
-"Are you ready for breakfast, Brahms?" I ask, and he nods. "Alright, to the kitchen then. C'mon."
-He quickly takes my hand as I'm passing by him, holding it tight in his own. At this point I expected it, and I don't mind as much as I did at first. I hold his hand back, and I can feel his eyes on me.
-"Are you scared of me?" He asks suddenly, and I look up at him at that question.
-"..Yeah." I am honest, of course, preferring to be so rather than lie. I've already done enough lying and all of that got me down in deep. "But you promised not to hurt me, so I'm taking your word for it."
-"Don't be scared of me." He spoke as if his words would automatically be able to change my mind.
-"I'll try not to be." I nod, looking back forward instead of at him. "But I did watch you kill two people that I've known since highschool."
-"But they--"
-"Were trying to kill me, I know. Thank you for keeping me safe, but still. I know what you're capable of, and killing people didn't really prove as the best first impression." Neither does making me take care of a doll and playing paranormal games with me, but at this point it's old news. "I don't think you understand how scary it is when someone dies, and how scary it makes you. It's horrible to kill people Brahms."
-He stops abruptly, and I stop with him, our arms stretched a bit between us by the time I turn around to look at him. He's just staring at me, and I furrow my brows in confusion. Then he speaks.
-"Horrible?" His voice is just above a whisper. "You think I'm bad??"
-"I think what you did was bad." I nod. "I'm hoping that you don't ever do it again. I can't trust someone who just.. Kills people and doesn't realize how bad it is."
-With that mention, he tenses up, his grip on my hand tightening. He looks down for a moment before he continues walking, at first going past me before I begin to follow after. It makes me wonder, with that kind of apathy and his methods of removing bodies, he's got to be a serial killer of some kind, right? And here I am, living with him. I can chalk it up to the idea that every time he's killed someone it's been to protect himself or someone else like he had done for me, but if that were true why wasn't anyone else here? My curiosity gets the better of me.
-"How many other people have you killed Brahms?" He hums, nearly like a whine like he doesn't want to answer my question. "Brahms--"
-"No." He states simply, looking back at me with a glance before we make it to the kitchen. He let's go of my hand to sit down at the dining chair, and then he crosses his arms tightly over his chest. "Breakfast."
-I look at him, scanning his body language as best I can until I notice that he won't look at me. That's enough to tell me that he's killed enough people for me to be mad about it. For me to not want to be around.
-I move towards the fridge and I open it up, reaching inside for whatever ingredients. I can tell he's not going to help with cooking this time around, having made him uncomfortable. I quickly whipped something up and I set his plate in front of him, and he looks down at it, before looking at me as I sat down in the chair furthest from him. We don't talk, and I certainly don't look at him, eating my breakfast. Eventually I hear him eating his own, his mask just barely above his chin. When I had finished my meal, I waited for him to, and as he did I took his plate and brought it to the sink.
-The hot water was almost burning my hands as I scrubbed the plate off with the sponge, keeping my breath in my chest and being very shallow about it. If I hadn't been soft with my breathing, I would've missed the slight shift of a chair behind me as Brahms gets up, his footsteps completely silent as he steps behind me. I tense as his arms wrap around my body, hugging my arms to my sides, my hands set the plates down in the sink carefully. I felt uncomfortable, not wanting to be touched by him given the new, yet explicit, knowledge.
-"Brahms, I need to wash the dishes." I tell him, and all he does is hug tighter. "I don't want to be touched Brahms. I'm not in the mood. Get off of me." I attempt to push him off, and he only loosens slightly, but he's strong about it still. "Brahms."
-He hums, his face pressing into my head. I can tell he wants some sort of comfort, given the recent com we had, but I can't give him that. I just want him off right now, to wrap my head around the idea of living with a serial killer that seems to be obsessed with me. I don't even know if I can live here for very long knowing these things.
-"Brahms!" I raise my voice, pushing him back a little harshly, and this gets him off of me. I look up at him, a bit of surprise in his eyes as he looks down at mine. "I give you only a few rules and you can't follow them? I've managed to follow all of yours. I just want my personal space."
-He shifts back a little, resting his weight on one foot to another, looking antsy. He doesn't look like he knows what to do, looking away from me and looking around the room. A tension builds, and I turn away, going back to wash the dishes in attempts to just leave the topic. Of course, this doesn't keep me out too long, and I flinch when he abruptly grabs a plate off the drying rack and throws it at the wall across the room.
-I look over my shoulder, looking at it, and he's looking at me as if expecting a reaction that will help him get his way. I look at him, raising my brows. "That wasn't my plate." I state simply. "If you wanna break your own things, fine. But I'm not cleaning up your messes."
-He cocks his head to the side, a look of actual disbelief in his eyes. I could tell that not only by this manor, but by his current brat attitude that he's spoiled. He doesn't seem to understand me right now, and I can tell that much by the way he tales the plate I'm washing out of my hand and tosses it to the floor, snapping it in half. I press my lips together, before I hand him the second one.
-"Wanna break this one too?" I wave it around, and he just glances at it, before looking at me. "They're not mine. I don't have anything to lose, neither. If you're gonna kill me now because you didn't get the hug that you wanted, then I honestly don't care."
-It was an odd sense of lack of self worth, and I don't know if I really meant what I said or not, but I didn't want him to know that his aggressive attitude was scaring me. I wanted him to think that all it would do would make me angry. But regardless, it made him stop, and he's just standing there staring at me.
-"If you wanna clean this up, I'm sure you know where the broom is." I turn away, putting the plate back in and cleaning it thoroughly, scrubbing the previous meal off into the water before I started with the silverware.
-"..I just want a hug." Brahms tells me, childish voice sounding pleasing and upset.
-"Yeah, but I don't want to be touched Brahms. You're making me uncomfortable." I place the plate on the drying rack after I rinse the suds off. "Maybe later when you put your damn big boy pants on." I wipe my hands off on a rag and I walk away from him, past shattered plates on the ground. "Clean this up and I'll see you in the music room for studying."

-I was sitting in front of the piano, my heart pounding in anticipation before he finally came in. He was fiddling with his fingers, looking at me from the doorway up until I noticed him standing there. I feel the side of my face before looking away from him. I hated the way he resembled a child so well, while at the same time being such a large man with so much hair. His personality definitely does not fit the body.
-He eventually walks over, sitting down beside me, but not touching me. I can definitely tell that he's learning, and even though the lesson taught wasn't too ingrained yet, he still was capable of understanding and learning.
-"I cleaned it up." Brahms tells me, and I nod. "Am I good?"
-"I'm still upset." I tell him, shrugging. "Maybe when I notice that you're not acting like a toddler then I'll tell you.. We're studying this song." I point at the music sheets, and he soon begins to play the song.
-He doesn't really let me teach him much, and I assume it's him trying to save me the trouble. He doesn't touch me once, although I can tell by the way he looks at me that he wants my hand at least. But he doesn't try.
-It had been half an hour of him playing various songs, all growing more and more in complexity and often times playing each one more than once until it is perfect. Then he moves to the next, until he stops and looks at me. I look back at him, before I nod, and I stand up.
-"Let's go to the library." I tell him, standing up and stepping away. He then follows after, a couple feet behind me.
-"(Y/N)?" I stop when I hear him speak my name, and I turn around to face him. He's fiddling with his hands, and glances down for a second before looking back at me. "Can I hold your hand?"
-I pause, glancing at his palms before I look him back in the eyes. I honestly wouldn't mind, but part of me just wants to find out if he'd throw another tantrum if I told him no. I wanna see if he's learned at all. This might be stupid, but..
-"No, Brahms. I'm not comfortable yet. Maybe later."
-I watch as his shoulders falter slightly and he looks down, trying to hold his composure. He's shifting on his feet a little, as if trying to get a hold of himself, and I'm watching him nearly reach his boiling point. I clear my throat, and he looks back up at me, almost glaring with irritation and hopefulness.
-"Library. C'mon." I tell him, and soon were on the move, and he sticks to my side just an inch too close, but I don't say much only I move that inch away.
-He couldn't sit still sitting in his chair, his legs going up and down, between putting them on top like a child to sitting properly like a gentleman. It was a little funny to watch, but every time he looked at me I looked away from him. It's like he was trying to get my attention when he did it, and it was certainly working out in his favor. I won't let him know that though.
-"(Y/N)?" I looked at him when he said my name, and he was holding his book to his chest. "Do you hate me now?"
-I blink at him a couple times, and I find the words before I even think about them. "No, I don't hate you Brahms. I just don't feel safe with you yet."
-"That's because I killed people."
-"Yeah.. Yeah you did."
-He looks down at the ground, staring, before he looks back at me. "I promise not to kill people." He said, as if it'd make a difference. "Not unless I have to."
-"Have to?"
-"To protect you."
-I press my lips together, before I nod slowly. "Okay... I'll accept that."
-He tilts his head a little. "Can I touch you?"
-"Not yet... Finish your studies Brahms."
-He sighs through his nose, looking away and pushing his back into the seat behind him. I could tell he wanted to pout, I'd dealt with a child that was very akin to him before. Sarah's child; Ricky.. He was much worse than this though, incapable of learning anything. I'm just glad I'm not stuck babysitting him instead.
-He grumpily looked down at his book and began reading, and therefore I look back at mine. The clock ticks by, and eventually my mind drifts past the words and my thoughts carry on to past events..
-Ricky was my godson, meaning he was meant to be under my care if Sarah ever passed along with everyone else in her family. It was a bad decision however, especially since I was much younger back then and a lot less capable of taking care of a kid like him. He's just so.. Spoiled and cruel, and then I didn't know how to help him.
-Sarah's passing sent the young boy to Edgar's hands, and Edgar was far more cruel of a father than he was as anything else. Part of me is glad he's dead now, and honestly.. This might just be me losing my mind just a bit more, but I'm starting to get over it, becoming comfortable with the fact that he murdered my pursuers. He's so strong on the idea of keeping me safe, as well as keeping me with him. His possessiveness would be a huge red flag if it wasn't for the fact that I secretly enjoyed it. I'd been on the road of losing my entire life for half a year, loved ones hating me. I suppose I missed the feeling of being wanted, and Brahms is more than willing to give it to me.
-I set the book aside on the arm rest and I stand up. His head lifts, looking at me, and he watches me approach him. He set the book down eagerly, getting hopeful as I looked at him, and then I opened my arms.
-"I want a hug." I tell him, and he stands, arms wrapping around my torso under my arms. My hand cradles the back of his head, his black curly locks greasy with sweat, and I frown a little. "After studying, you are taking a shower. Have you felt your hair? Dirty."
-He hums in annoyance, and just hugs me tighter. His face buries into my neck, pushing a little too harshly against my wind pipe, and he relaxes when I cough. My other hand drags along his back, and then I grasp at the cardigan he's wearing.
-"Am I good?" Brahms asks me, needing the reassurance that he's been grasping for all day.
-"Yes, Brahms.. You'll be good as long as you keep all your promises and follow the rules I gave you.. They're easy to follow."
-He hums in agreement before he picks me up, my legs dangling beneath me. I can hear his breathing grow in heaviness, and I bite my lip a little anxiously. He eventually sets me back down on my feet however, and I realize that studying isn't going to get back on track any time soon.

-"You want me to help you?" I ask him, and he nods, holding a towel and an outfit of clothes in his arms. "What, can you not.." I find myself stopping my words, realizing there was no point in arguing. "You're taking a bath, not a shower."
-I didn't like the idea of washing him in a shower. In a bath, there can be bubbles and then I don't have to see anything.
-He nods, and then turns around, sitting the towel and clothes on the sink counter. I passed him to turn on the bath, adjusting heat; it started out lukewarm before it got into the right temperature that I like. I turned to look at him, as he shucked off his cardigan and exposed his arms, suspenders and white tank top. I step back, not wanting to look at him as he unsheathed his clothes, before I spotted it.
-A large hole in the back of his shirt, dried with light pink blood. It'd been cleaned as much as it could be, and it looks like it'd been stabbed through, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
-"Is that your shirt Brahms?" I ask, and he looks at me, the suspenders coming undone and he holds them on his hands. He nods, but that isn't enough. "Was it somebody else's before you?"
-"Daddy's." He mutters, before he pauses, trying to catch onto my curiosity, before lifting his shirt and pointing out a scar on his gut. "My blood."
-I nod slowly. "What happened?"
-He pulled his shirt off, exposing the rest of his torso, and then he gripped the shirt tight in a fist as if he were angry. "Greta." He growled.
-"Who?" He throws the shirt at the wall and then turns to look at the bath as it filled up. He took a bottle and started making bubbles; either reading my mind or having wanted them out of childish urge. "Did she stab you?"
-"Yes." He slammed the bottle back down on the edge. "I protected her and then she stabbed me, left me." His childish voice was faltering, anger consuming his posture. I take a sharp breath in, walking over and placing my hand on his shoulder blade; then he grabs my arm and looks me straight into my eyes. "You wouldn't betray me, would you?" He asked, and I blinked before frowning.
-"If you can keep your promises, I'll keep mine. Now let me go, you're holding too tight."
-He lets go, muttering something incoherent before looking away and rubbing his hands along the beard poking out from under the mask. I sigh, and I abruptly look away as he's unbuckling his pants. I cover my eyes, stepping back, and I could feel his eyes look at me in bewilderment before noticing. It'd just be disrespectful to watch, right?
-I hear him get into the water, and by then I look at him. His body was submerged in the still growing water, riding up his midriff and elbows as he sat slouched. He looked at me expectantly, blinking once before I stepped up towards him. I grab the scrub near by, and I get on my knees, having the urge to just get this over with, and it was combatting with a more subconscious urge to just savour the moment.
-I soak it in the water, soap and liquid coating it's being before I began to wash his back. He shivered a little at the heat before freezing back up and just looking at me. Filth fills the body of water, almost already turning it brown, before I'm already done cleaning his upper back. He sighs quietly and just stares, reading my expression, before he relaxes under my touch. Then he wiggles a little, turning to face me instead.
-I blink at him, and he takes my hand and places it against my neck, the sponge squishing below his jaw. I suppose he has a specific way in wanting to be washed, and I don't really say anything other than just following his rule. He closes his eyes and just sits, and after I quickly turn off the faucet, there's nothing but silence and the little bit of steam in the bathroom. I place my extra hand on his shoulder, listening to him hum in comfort. Yet again, it felt wrong to be looking at him and almost gawking at how cute he was.
-His skin changed from the darker shade to a much paler color, not having left the house too often, and that was evident. He doesn't even breathe like he's tasted fresh air.
-He leaned forward towards me, out of the bath tub and he rested his forehead on my shoulder. I froze for a moment, before my hands go towards his back, finishing what I started earlier. It feels almost like a hug, my arms wrapping around his body and my hands all over his back. I can tell he positioned himself this way on purpose, just to have me this close. I don't mind, truly, and it clearly has calmed him down from his previously growing anger.
-I lean my head onto his comfortably, my free hand going up and cradling the back of his head before my hand goes further down, rubbing the uncleanliness off of him. I slowly begin savouring the moment rather than trying to get it over with, finding comfort in this moment rather than anything. The moment seemed surprisingly serene, my fingers getting stuck with bubble suds the further I go down, before I go to his sides. I refuse to go for anything under the water.
-He wiggles slightly when the sponge rides up the side of his body, and his hands reach up and grab my shoulders, soaking some of my shirt. I blink a couple times until I realize that he's ticklish. A big scary man like him?? What the hell?? I almost want to fuck with him, but I have a feeling he's the violent type when ot comes to being tickled, so I don't bother. I just clean him as careful as I can.
-Once I can longer reach, I push him off of me, causing him to whine. "I'm gonna finish cleaning off the front of you, how about you get your hair wet, hm? Lay back." He lifts his chin and shakes his head. "Brahms, your hair will be soft. You know how nice soft hair is? Especially your hair, it'd be so nice."
-"Will you play with it?" He reaches up and sticks his fingers into his locks.
-"Yes, sure."
-He shifts, and then lays back, his upper body slowly being engulfed as he lays down. Then his head rests against the ledge, and he shivers as the sponge touched his chest. I can't believe just how hairy this man is. I'm a bit too used to seeing men so well shaved that it's never been an idea to me that a full body could be like this. Not like I didn't know it could happen, I just never expected it.
-The sponge trails down his body and then I stop at the water, just above his button, and I set the sponge aside. He looks at me, and I reach towards his face.
-"You was everything waist down. I'm gonna take care of your hair first."
-He does nothing but hum as my fingers sink into his knotted locks, and he closes his eyes tight as I push him down further into the water. He whines when the water inches near his mask, and then I stop, cupping the water in my hands and I bring it on top of his head instead. I can tell that whatever is under the mask wouldn't enjoy water, so I save him the trouble.
-Wetting his hair was one thing, and then soaking it in suds was another. It was a quick wash, covering his black curls in pearly white bubbles, sticking them to his cranium. My fingers leave his scalp and his eyes open, watching me clean my fingers off in the water that was growing in filth.
-"Wash your legs and everything down there and then I'll wash your hair back out. We're going to have to brush your hair too."
-He grumbles something deeply before he slowly sits up, grabbing the sponge and taking care of his lower body without words. I sit on the toilet bowl near by, the lid being an uncomfortable about of hard. I look away as he cleans himself, gazing at the towel. He finishes up rather quickly, taking care of his half of the work that I'm nearly certain was a sloppy job.. Either way, he's clean.
-When he lays back down, he beckons me over, reaching for me and grabbing my knee to get my attention. Soon enough I'm back at washing him up, my hands going for his hair and ringing them out. He grunts every time my fingers get stuck in his knots, reaching up and grabbing my wrists.
-"I'm sorry Brahms." I tell him. "You need to brush your hair more often. It wouldn't hurt if you took better care of yourself." He whines in annoyance, and then releases my wrists, grabbing the edges of the tub instead. When I know for certain that his hair is clean, I pull away, and he sits up. "Take out the drain, I'll hand you the towel."
-I turn away from him, and I hear the pop of release, water going down the drain in an instant. I hand him the towel without looking, and I place my hands in front of me as I can hear him drying off. Then I can hear him drop it, and a shuffle of clothing, before he stops.
-"(Y/N)?"
-"Yes Brahms?"
-"Help me."
-I was expecting this. I take a deep breath and sigh, and I use my hand to cover his lower body. When I turn around, he's holding his shirt in both hands. "I need to help you why?" I ask, and he looks down, shifting on his feet. "Alright. Do you got underwear on?"
-He nods, and I drop my hand. I step forward, and take the shirt from his hands, and I open it up from folded. It's a long sleeved sweater it seems, very soft and comfy in my hands. I roll it up and I reach for his head, and he bends his knees to help me get it on him. His arms fit the sleeves and he lets me pull it down his body.
-"You can put your pants on by yourself." He whines at me. "No, not comfortable. Put them on yourself."
-He grabs the pants off the counter and angrily gets on with putting them on. I almost giggle at his over exaggeration, but I hold it back. He zips his fly up and buttons, before he looks at me, his hands holding one another in front of his hips.
-"Alright, good job Brahms." I nod, and he tilts his head.
-"Kiss?" Of course, there's starting to be a pattern. Every good job I give him, he wants a reward. "Kiss." He taps his porcelain lips.
-"I'm not kissing you there but I can give your cheek a kiss." He shakes his head, and taps on his lips again, but I cross my arms, raising my brows at him. "Cheek or forehead Brahms."
-He drops his arms at his sides, and he holds still for a moment before he leans towards me, tapping his cheek, and I give him the kiss. He then stands, and walks past me, clearly unhappy but I'm glad he hadn't bothered trying to force my hand.

-I had him sitting between my legs on the floor, squirming about and trying to annoy me enough to get out of the situation. Of course, this doesn't work, and I grab the back of his sweater and pull him back.
-"I can't play with your hair unless it's brushed Brahms. Quit being a baby. It won't hurt that bad."
-"No."
-"Yes. Or else I won't."
-He crosses his arms and lays his head down in my lap. He didn't seem too excited, but I smiled down at him when he faltered. I take a small lock of hair and I work on it slow, making sure to be kind to his scalp. I'm being as careful as I can, and he's closing his eyes in anticipation of me making a mistake. I don't do too many mistakes however, brushing his whole head of hair lasted about an hour and each tiny mistake I make causes him to whimper dramatically.
-By the time I'm finished, I run my fingers right through his hair, and he hums happily in response. "See, that wasn't so bad." I tell him. "Now you gotta make sure it's brushed all the time so that it doesn't get knotted."
-He nods just a little, and reaches up, taking my hand and putting it on top of his head. I can't help but chuckle just a little bit at his eagerness, tangling his locks around my fingers...
-I don't think I'm scared anymore.