Hi everyone! Sorry if there's any mistakes in my writing for this chapter my eyes are killing me UHH goodnight and ENJOY! :)
Greta had been busy cleaning and changing the bed sheets in her room. She'd brought them downstairs to the basement where Brahms rested. Throwing in each load and dried them to perfection. She'd even made Brahms remove his own bedsheets as well. Considering he might've not have changed them very often. Greta was folding the rest of them with ease. Turning over a pillowcase she accidently knocked over her bottle. She was about to retrieve it as she quickly put aside her sheets.
Suddenly, Brahms was way ahead of her as he picked it up for her.
"Oh, thanks." She said taken back a bit. Brahms handed it to her as she took it with an appreciative smile. Brahms went back to his desk. "Your sheets are almost done." She reminds him slightly calling after him.
Brahms had just nodded but didn't seem to face her. He seemed to be too busy at his desk. Either he was writing or creating something, she thought, she wasn't entirely sure. Greta took quick little glances his way every once and a while wondering what he was doing. Still, she should be grateful that he wasn't on top of her at the moment. Unfortunately, her curiosity got the better of her. Greta's face scrunched trying to see what he was doling but his broad hunched over back cover everything in her path.
Greta decided to see what he was up to now. Considering he was very quiet, well… quieter then usually. Greta put aside her never-ending chores and went over to him as quietly as possible.
As she got closer and closer with light footsteps trying to see ahead. Looking down on him she was closer to his back side as she leaned forward a bit. Nearing over his shoulder she noticed the strong tendons on his neck and the muscles he had in his arms. He may have been thin, but he was toned with strength.
Quickly averting her gaze, as if she was in a trance. Looking over his shoulder to see what he's been doing for so long. Her long hairs almost grazing his exposed shoulder blades.
Brahms was working on his crafts but mainly his letter. He'd been writing and writing to his own accord. He liked that Greta was here with him and that he wasn't alone.
Greta was about to speak and ask what he was doing. Brahms eyes went from the paper he was working on to his side slowly. He felt like something was watching him without him even noticing. Brahms head snapped over to see Greta was right next to him. He jolted back because she was so unexpectedly close, almost like he was frightened for once.
"Oh sorry!" Greta stood up straight taking a few paces back. "Now you know how I feel." She chuckled nervously. "I just wanted to see what you were doing- "
Brahms quickly pushed his stuff aside like a kid trying to hide something from his parents. He just as quickly looked back up at her when he hid everything away.
"Ah." Greta sighed a little. "I see it's not for sharing." She joked a little. Brahms eyes shifted a bit into sadness. The look of feeling guilty and bad for not wanted to share what he was doing. Greta picked up on the tone he was giving off through his eyes.
"That's ok." She assured him. "Its fine, trust me, I have a few things a wouldn't wanna share myself." She shrugged trying to make him feel better. Brahms just seemed to look down a little as he looked back over to his desk with a tinge of shame.
Greta wasn't entirely sure how she felt either though. She had a general idea of the reasons but at the same time she was puzzled. Being under the same roof with him had been interesting. They slept in the same house, eat together, cleaned together, read together, and continued to do so every day now for almost a year. Still, at the same time she didn't know him. They might've done stuff together now for quite some time, but they didn't talk to a point to where they knew each other like the back of their hands. It almost reminded her of an arranged married between two people who didn't know one another at all but had to comply with the unexpected marriage.
Maybe Greta could change that. She knew she would know every little thing about him, and she didn't want to know the bad parts. She got the gist of that and didn't need to hear everything about that part of his life.
"Brahms." She whispered but instantly captured his attention. Taking a breath, she sighed a little. Brahms could see her saddened face and regrettably didn't know how to fix it. He felt rather stupid for it. His Greta was sad and looked confused and stumbled all at once.
"I- "She couldn't finish as she looked quite defeated. Brahms just looked over with affection in his eyes. He wanted her to be comfortable when she was around me. He wanted to hear her questions even if he didn't want to answer he still wanted to hear her.
Brahms lifted his hand slowly to hers. Reaching Greta's side, he let her hand rest on his big palm. He took a hold of her hand in a soft grasp. Speaking through his gesture he was telling her that it was ok. Greta sighed a little as she equaled his grasp. It was a weird feeling, but it felt nice at the same time.
"I just." Greta paused with uncertainty. "I feel like I don't know you at all. Maybe we can change that?" She smiled a little. Brahms nodded towards her goal. Greta looked to her left and right wondering where to sit. Quickly Brahms shot up from his chair. Moving aside next to his work desk as offer her his own seat.
"Oh, can I… sit here?" She wanted to respect his work area. Before she could even pull out the chair Brahms took a hold of the chair and gently pulled it out for her. She immediately took that as an invitation to sit in his work seat.
"Oh, thank you." She jolted a bit at the closeness they shared once more. Greta quickly seated herself on the chair. Brahms stood behind pushing the chair in for her a few inches.
"I'm fine." She soothed him. "Come and sit with me." She urged him to sit across over onto his bed. Brahms followed the direction of her hand and sat a cross from her.
Brahms quickly sat on the edge of his small bed. He tried making himself appear smaller than what he really was. Tucking his knees together with his usual hunched over long sleek back. He placed his hands on his legs loosely as he listened and waited for her to continue. Greta thought he might say something first but that wasn't the case.
"Oh, uhh… OK I'll just go first." She said a bit timidly as she cleared her throat. "I guess I'll say a small something about myself and then you'll go?" She didn't mean to make it out to be a question. She hoped she was getting through to him at least somewhat. Brahms just seemed to ponder and wait for her to continue and tell him stuff he was very interested in hearing.
"I enjoy gardening and planting flowers… tomatoes, peppers- you know all the healthy stuff no one wants to eat in a salad." She kidded with a little motion in the arms. Brahms nodded at her interest, and he also seemed to ponder on her fascination. He remembered they had a gardener but that was many years ago. Remembering not only the wildflowers but also the roses consisting of different hues. Some were white and pink, but the one he liked the most was the crimson roses planted by the walkway they had in the garden. They would grow and climb up themselves in the cement blocks. It was nice, it was a peaceful feeling to sit in content. He sort of missed it but now he missed it even more. Wishing Greta was here to see it during the time was once a beautiful and alive.
"I… like to draw." He cringed at his own words of trying to sound more like himself. Remembering the last conversation, they had together.
"Really?" Greta asked a little fascinated. "Is it with pencil or painting or- "
"Oil." He whispered but she still caught it just in time.
"That's nice." She cooed with interest. "I never used oil- let alone touch it because… uh its probably a little messy to use." She gestured to her hands wiping them on her pants. Well, that was one thing she didn't know he did from time to time. Although, she'd never seen Brahms draw anything when she was down here with him. Maybe he liked to be alone when doing his artwork, she thought.
"OK umm…" She patted her thighs thinking for the longest moment. "OH YES- I really loved going to the movie theaters! Watching romantic movies, funny movies, scary stuff, you know." She thought on about how she did love and miss going to the movies to see things on the big screen. It was fun to go with her friends and family when something finally good came out.
"It was just a lot of fun to watch and laugh when stupid things would happen." She shrugged smiling. Brahms seemed to tilt his head a little at this 'Movie Thing'. He didn't know much about the picture box, he was never given a TV box, he thought. He heard about them when he was little remembering others talking about an event or something on a box. He was a reader not a movie watcher. Plus, sadly he was never given the chance to see any picture. Greta noticed his confused eyes as if trying to figure out her words.
"You know, the movie theater." She said again. "Where you go to see… well, movies and buy popcorn and candy."
"Like a festival?" He titled his head a bit and started to sound like a child again within his voice.
"Umm… no, n-no not like a festival, I mean I know they have similar food like that there as well, but no not like a festival." Greta stumbled a little. She couldn't believe he didn't know what a movie theater was, let alone a movie, she thought baffled.
"It's like an action thing really with different genres- HEY like your books you read!" She snapped her fingers at the idea. "Its basically the stories you read in your books transformed into a live action moving picture. It pretty neat, have you really never seemed a… movie before?" She didn't want to make him feel bad or anything when tried to ask her question. Brahms just shook his head a little. He didn't understand everything that she was saying but if a moving picture was like how he imagines his book reading then it sorts of made a little more sense. Still, feeling a little left out knowing she had fun with others, rather then with him.
"What… was the movie?" He asked sincerely. Brahms wanted to know what picture she enjoys that made her beam up with life in front of him. He wanted more of that now.
"Oh, you mean like, my favorite movie I saw?" Greta asked just making sure. Brahms nodded eagerly to hear the answer. Even if he didn't know what it was, he was still curious on what made her smile so bright.
"Ok well, oh boy… there's a little, but I'll tried to narrow it down for size." She scratched the back of her head chuckling. "Well, I really love Forrest Gump." Brahms eyes immediately narrowed at that name seemingly it was a man's name. Greta quickly put up her hands with a nervous laugh.
"W-wait hold on, its just a movie remember!" Greta had to remind him. Brahms just sighed a little as his darks began to lessen in harshness.
"Yeah." She pushed her hair back. "It's just a really great movie about a guy who's…well a little slow and he's in love with a girl since a kid but she's always on the run from her problems but Forrest will always be there for her when she wants to come home to him. It's a beautiful story, there's more but believe me we would be here for three hours trying to get through the first scene of the movie." She laughed a little. Brahms interested had peeked at the story line, he would like to hear the rest, he wishes there was a novel or something that it original came from. Plus, he couldn't leave and try to find a copy, it was a wish short lived.
"What else?" Brahms asked quietly.
"Well, umm… I really like the movie, Aliens." Brahms squinted at that confused. Greta tried to hold back another giggle seeing how lost he was. "Its just a classic movie where humans are in space and go on a plant and an Alien attaches themselves to their victim. It lays an egg in your stomach area and a baby alien violently bursts out killing the host on impact and the aliens grows within just a few hours and well…. they want to take over everything and have more babies."
The utter look on Brahms face if one could see it would be in awe and completely grossed out. His eyes twitched a bit, that was a story, he thought bewildered, that was an absolutely terrible story. There wasn't even a story to it, why would she enjoy such a thing he thought utterly baffled. Oh, his Greta needed help on seeing that was just terrible. Still, he couldn't say anything seeing she was happy at the moment. Greta still saw the confusion in his eyes seeing it did look a little disturbed.
"Its not real." She reminded with a chuckle. "Don't worry, they won't be dropping by to impregnate you." Now he looked even more confused with a titled head. "Nevermind." She shook her head.
"What else, Greta?" He asked ready for the next story.
"Well wait a minute, I've been going a few times now. Its your turn." She gestures for him to say something. Brahms just sat there as if stumped. He knows she wanted to learn more about him, even though he knew everything about her. Greta wished to know stuff, but he struggled to continue. He hoped she would know many things about him by now and remember everything they'd done together. Brahms masked face descended as he held himself silently.
"Why don't you… talk all the time?" She asked him.
"I get… tired." He said quietly.
"But Brahms… I've… heard you talk though." She looked confused. "I heard your real voice a few times now." Brahms almost looked ashamed by the statement she made.
"It slips out sometimes." His childish voice lessons at the tone. He looked down sheepishly. The child inside him still spoke through him. The man he held within was still as if doorman and sleeping soundlessly.
"Well, that's ok. I mean… it's your voice." She beamed at him with encouragement. "You don't have to hide behind a mask. You don't have to hide yourself from me. I won't judge what you look like underneath- just like I wouldn't judge the way you talk. Your real voice does sound… nicer."
Greta wanted him to at least know that it was ok. It was ok to be himself and not have to hide behind another person's face in fear of what others might've thought. Brahms masked face glanced down at the floor. He couldn't completely agree with her on some parts. About him and about his mask, that he was hiding. Yes, it was true, all he knew how to do was hide but the banter she played was itching underneath his toughened skin.
"Do you like it?" He asked curiously. His eyes read hopefulness and the longing that always remain. Greta rubbed her arm a little awkwardly and she sighed aloud.
"Well, in compared to your other voice… yes I like your natural voice." She shrugged a little with a small smile.
"Why?" He asked a bit too quickly. Greta was shaken for a moment as her mouth stayed ajar open for a few moments. She wasn't prepared for that, but she might as well be honest.
"Because it suits you better." Her tone was earnest and truthful as her own gaze laid straight on him. "It's not…. a lie." She cringes a bit at the thought hoping he wouldn't throw a tantrum or a childish fit.
A lie, he thought. He never lied to her or wanting to do it intentional. He might've made a few bad choices, but he never lied to her. He couldn't, he'd feel like a complete bastard if he deceived her but at the same time apparently, she felt as though she was being misled. Oh, the insufferable and cruel irony that he thought she'd except him for who he is underneath this mask was a delusion. Brahms wasn't stupid, far from it. He knew she wanted to leave just like in the past, but he still hoped for her to see this is where she belonged. This was where she was always meant to be, here, with him.
"So…. you think of me… as only a lie?" He asked rubbing his own hands together a tightly. Greta brows knitted together at that.
"No… I didn't say that." She shook her head. "Your here and your real. It's… the way you present yourself that's the lie." Still a little confused by her statement he really did try to understand her words. The way he presented himself, he thought puzzled and petrified knowing she thought of him this way. Brahms had an itch at the back of his head, he tried to scratch it, but it kept coming back. Damn it to hell he fumed to himself, why was he feeling so uncomfortable.
Greta noticed he was itching and aching and fidgeting a lot. She thought he might be trying to hold back a burst of angry or an unspeakably loud cry for a pity hug. Oh boy, she sighed, maybe she shouldn't even had said anything at all. But he asked, Greta argued with herself like she had a demon on one side of her shoulder and an angel on the other. Both bickering back-and-forth like toddlers. What was she supposed to do, lie?! Wasn't that the whole point of this conversation, not to lie?! She was utterly frustrated at this, and it was just getting ridiculous. She sighed a bit of sadness as she glances down. Brahms heard as he stopped his small fidgeting, and all his attention went straight towards her. She sounded off to his ears.
"I'm sorry if my… expectations of you aren't what you were expecting." She met with his masked eyes. "Listen… if it makes you feel better whether it be what voice you want to talk in or whatever mask you want to wear. I'll just except it for what it is." She shook her head a defeated. "I won't mention anything about it again… I'll just say it looks great and you sound like you." If that's make him feel better, then so be it. Greta would defeat the purpose and simply lie through her teeth to make him feel better. Brahms thought on it for a moment. So, she'd give up her own voice and thoughts on what she thought of him. His Greta would lie to him every day just a appease him on making him feel good. He didn't need to feel anything about himself, he thought a little annoyed. He cared about what she thought of him and her perception toward him. He most certainly did not want her to lie to him. It would simply just ruin and tarnish everything they'd so far build together. He wouldn't go back to before, not ever.
"Don't do that." He spoke low. "Don't lie to me." She jolts a bit in seat at the voice. His voice, the man himself. The one and only Brahms Heelshire's voice. It was the British Accent that caught her off guard. It sent a chill down her spine. It was a warm feeling she felt in between her bones and radiated through her nerves. It was radiant and she couldn't control the feeling. She felt flush in her cheeks and tight in stomach for a few moments as she tried to calm herself. Greta couldn't even understand herself why she felt such a sudden rush go through her.
"Brahms yo- "
"I want… to hear your thoughts, on me. Even if you think…. it might hurt me. I want to hear your…. interest and passions. I don't want you to lie." He shook his head only a little.
"Because I don't want to deceive you, Greta." He dark voice sounded wholesome enough to tell to wasn't lying on his words. It was spoken in truth and harmony he didn't know he had. Greta was shocked to the core. She never heard him talk so much. Considering Brahms did not like to talk all the time. Only when he really had to, he mostly prefers his silence, reading, and musical notes.
"I…. don't want to deceive you either Brahms." She agreed with him on that part but there was always one most very important question she already knew the answer to. "And I would love hear about your passions." She smiled a bit.
"But… even if I told you, my truth." Greta fiddled softly with her heads. "Would you ever let me go?" She whispered holding back her sorrow. She already knew the answer. All it took was for him to go completely silent again. He never spoken a word nor a nod. Greta was regretful of her question knowing she just wasted another breath on him.
.
Malcom is out with friends he knew from high school and college. The bar was packed to the brim as people cheered and sang random songs. It was around Christmas time with the deathly cold weather kicking in. Malcom was turning twenty-one and all his friends decided to drag him to a pub. Everyone talked and laughed aloud.
Malcom stood from the loud talkative group and went to get another round at the bar. He took was about to take his orders hearing the front door of the bar being open feeling the chow breeze find its way inside. Suddenly seeing Mr. Heelshire entering the pub in a large coat huddling it closely to himself. The snowflakes could be seemed from outside sliding through the open door before it closed. Quickly it melted away as soon as felt the heat. Mr. Heelshire took a seat at the far side of the pub. Clearly, he wanted to get away from the commotion in the crazed bar. Malcom slightly taken back wondering why Mr. Heelshire wanted to enter a pub with so many people. Usually, he went for the higher well known establishment for a drink. Mr. Heelshire took off his coat and began to seat himself. He was snapped out of his view by his friend throwing himself on Malcom's shoulders.
"Let's get some more shots mate! I see a wee peckish lad waiting for a water instead of drinking like the rest of us." He slurped down his drink and grabbing a hand full of pretzels eating them like life depended on it. Malcom laughed pushing him off.
"Get off ya sacked wanker." Malcom chuckled watching his friend wobbled back to the group. Malcom shook his head at the morons, but his eyes averted back to Mr. Heelshire. He didn't see Malcom but he rather, well, Malcom couldn't quite pinpoint what was up with Mr. Heelshire. He looked so different from the last time he saw him, and it was at least a few years since he saw the Heelshires emerge from there cave. Malcom was about to get off but thought better than that looking at his friends and then to Mr. Heelshire. Maybe he should go over and at least accompany him for a little out of respect. Malcom held up two fingers at the bar tender and instantly got too beers. He quickly saw a few his of friends waving him over to join them at the table.
"You drunk sacks go on!" He hollered at his friends. Not bothering to see if they even heard him. Malcom made his way over to Mr. Heelshire swiftly with both the beers in his hands.
"Is this seat taken sir?" Malcom asked aloud with a smile. Mr. Heelshire quickly looked up meeting the familiar boys face. He was tensed but lighten from the familiar sight.
"Oh." He breathed out a nervous laugh. "My dear boy it's you." He was about to stand to greet him, but Malcom quickly stopped him.
"No no!" Malcom laughed stopping him. "There's no need to be so formal here. All there is- is just loud bloks with their fingers up their nose singing Happy Christmas songs in the middle of January." He joked as he took his seat next to him at the table. Mr. Heelshire nodded in agreement.
"I think I can hear the sleigh Bells already, considering Christmas was just a few weeks ago." Mr. Heelshire took the beer from Malcom. He took a long sip as Malcom watched him.
"Mr. Heelshire, I haven't seen you in a few years. What are doing in a place like this?" Malcom had to ask. "Usually, you go to the high-end establishments up in York at the Country Club."
"I thought I'd stay locate." He shrugged a little. "Perhaps try something new. I haven't had the time to go all the way up to York. I've been rather busy really with other matters that desperately need my undivided attention." Mr. Heelshire took another sip almost seeing through the glass bottle it looked empty. Malcom looked a bit worried at the sight of him. He looked different as he thought before and rather malnourished or perhaps tired.
"Mr. Heelshire, are you well?" Malcom asked. "I've never seen you chug a beer in less than a minute." He joked trying to make light of it.
"I didn't even know I could do that my boy." He looked at the empty bottle in his hands. Soon pushing it aside and taking Malcom's bottle from his hands. Malcom eyes widen with surprise but thought it was funny as the same time see him take his beer he didn't even get to drink.
"By all means." Malcom bowed a little. "Perhaps you might need something a little stronger." Malcom advice seeing him drink the next beer. He swallowed thickly as he shook his head.
"No, no." Mr. Heelshire cleared his throat. "This is fine." He put the bottle on the table. Malcom felt puzzled by the man still but thought maybe he just wanted to have some time to himself. Still, after losing his son after all those years ago in the fire would have taken a toll on any parent. It changed his and wife's lives. They seemed to always be home he noticed, the Heelshire never went out, rarely on any specific occasion. Malcom wasn't working at the grocery shop at the moment, his father was managing everything even though he was sick himself. Malcom's father still encouraged him to go out and go to college. His father didn't want him to feel stuck and trapped having to do the groceries.
"Needed a break from home?" Malcom asked. Mr. Heelshire looked down slightly as he reached for a napkin in his pocket.
"Yes, you could ya that." He sniffed into the tissue. "It's rather cold out." He stated.
"Well, you're lucky to have a fireplace in this time of the year it's absolutely dreadful to get sick in." Malcom responded. He remembered seeing their grand fireplace, he himself would love to sleep in their living room with it on all night. Mr. Heelshire seemed to struggle to answer but proceeded anyways.
"Well, we don't use it that much. I mean we rather use our blankets in bed. It's less messy." He shrugged a little. Malcom understands though, it was about Brahms and his passing.
"I know it's been hard." Malcom said to the man but didn't look at him. "I lost him too, my friend. I mean we were only kids, and we might've not have gotten along all the time, but he was different and unique from the others. I remember he loved to read and play in the grass with his friend, and it only seemed like yesterday he was just sitting by the gardens eating an apple quietly to himself." Malcom soft calmly as he reminisced on little Brahms. It was sad and it hurt knowing Malcom did forget him most times because life moves on, but not for the ones who were his true family.
"You know we're always here for you and Mrs. Heelshire." He looked at the man who just seemed to be frozen in his seat. "You should take a trip and get out of that house before you kill yourself over such grief. I know it's been a long time, but I think you should consider time away." He wanted Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire to live their lives not drowned in the sorrows of their son's death for so long. Malcom could see the pain him Mr. Heelshire I was clear as day and did no good to think on the last over and over again until it ate them alive.
Malcom knew they'd never forget their son, maybe they felt guilty if they moved on from it. That they might forget about their son and that he ever existed. Just for one moment they might forget they ever had a son but that utter nonsense though, he'd always be with them. Malcolm waited for his reply, but Mr. Heelshire only seemed to be lost in space.
"Mr. Heelshire?" Malcom took ahold of his shoulder. He jolts in his seat at the touch like he was going to kill him. Malcom back up a bit but tried to calm him.
"It's alright Mr. Heelshire." He looked so lost and hopeless at the same time.
"Malcom, theres so much you don't know about him." He whispered the words as if frightened a bit. Malcom was hard of hearing over the loud bar going on with their talks, but he did hear something about not knowing. Not knowing everything about what? What did that have to do with Brahms's passing?
"Mr. Heelshire, what do you mea- "
Suddenly one of his friends came to the table with a drunk look on his face.
"Malcom ya git get on with the bringing of the drinks!" He chugged his shot.
"Bugger off ya wanker don't you see I'm a little preoccupied at the moment with someone mate!" Malcom shot back at him.
"No, no." Mr. Heelshire stopped him. "I must be on my way." He began to take his coat from behind the seat. Malcom didn't want him to leave just yet he felt he might not get the chance to see him for a very long time.
"But wait Mr. Heelshire you said- "
"Oi!" Malcom's friends looked at Mr. Heelshire. They both looked up at the drunk man. "Aren't you the one with that weirdo son of yours who died in that fire?" The drunk man had no compassion towards the man. Mr. Heelshire quickly got up not wanting to hear anymore trying to put on his coat.
"You fucking shit ya prick!" Malcom shot up with anger. "Don't you have any respect mate?!" Malcom wanted to punch him.
"What?! The little bugger was a weirdo in school! You remember! It's not my fault he was a freak." Malcom suddenly pushed his drunk friend away.
The man toppled hitting the table clumsy with his other friends laughing at them.
"Little Brahmsy probably started the fire and fucked the little girl too." They all laughed. Clearly, they were talking about Emily and how she was over his house when she died too. Suddenly a punch was thrown at the friend who spoke those words. One of the friends was the little boyfriend of Emily before died and didn't like the joke. Soon everyone started fighting in the bar like maniacs as bottle of glass was being thrown everywhere by everyone. Damn it to hell, Malcom thought peeved, fucking animals. Suddenly Malcom looked about worried, where was Mr. Heelshire? Seeing Mr. Heelshire exit quickly to the back exit. Malcom ran fast to the meet up with him. He pushed through the door harshly and walked into the snowy ground almost slipping. Malcom towards a dorm looking down the alley seeing Mr. Heelshire was halfway down the alley and making it to the sidewalk. Malcom ran after him.
"Mr. Heelshire WAIT!" Malcom shouted after him. "Please!" He quickly caught up with him. Mr. Heelshire didn't turn to him.
"Mr. Heelshire please I'm so sorry." He breathed out steam. "There just drunk and out of their wits I swear there not like that." Mr. Heelshire now turned to him.
"They spoke their truth." He simply said. "The alcohol merely released their thoughts about my son…. but it doesn't matter now." He shook his head. Malcom felt like such a shit.
"Mr. Heelshire, please… I don't understand though. What don't I know about Brahms?" Malcom asked trying to catch his breath. Mr. Heelshire paused for a moment as he looked at Malcom. He was too sweet of a boy to be hanging around those fools he called friends. Now he understood why Brahms despise those knobs so much a kid. Mr. Heelshire put a hand on Malcom's shoulder as he smiled a little at him.
"Go home son." He said softly. "Go home to your father." Malcom looked slightly disappointed but understood what he meant. He supposed he was right; it doesn't matter now. He padded Malcom on shoulder giving him a squeeze. He simply turned away and felt going back to his driver. Malcom didn't know what became of him, why he was even with those assholes. They tortured Brahms as a kid, and he saw it all happened. After all, he was there to protect his friend.