Chapter Summary
Brahms's thoughts on touch starvation, and the woman who makes a point to always be touching him in some way. Canon-Divergent/AU
Notes
Opening set before the au begins, and then the rest is set across Shattered Thoughts through to You're My Safe Haven Now, with the last bit set far in the future.
Little bit of spice in this one, though it's fully implied and not too graphic.
If he had to put it into words, the idea of being touched wasn't a typical peeve of his. Touch itself wasn't what he disliked- it was how much he craved it, dreamed of it, and so desperately needed it. He wanted to be wrapped in it until not a spot of his space was left intact, so that he could fall apart without fear of breaking.
He didn't have that when he'd concealed himself within the walls. His parents had essentially shunned him, doting on a doll instead- and while Malcolm knew he was alive and around, the most he was able to do was hide a candy bar or some other treat in the icebox on occasion, among the tupperware containers full of leftovers.
Touch was limited to occasional brushes when he was allowed out of the walls, before being guided by a hand on his shoulder to retreat after the short venture was over.
He got used to going without much physical contact, much like a starving man learning how to suppress the ache after a while.
That was before She came. Before everything changed.
It didn't even take her five minutes, once he was in front of her.
He didn't count what had happened weeks before- neither of the incidents. The first, she'd been dazed from falling from the attic, and the second, he'd assumed she was asleep- that she was reacting on instinct. He wasn't going to assume that pressing closer when he held her, or Ruby holding his hand once meant more touches were on their way in the near future.
He couldn't deny that he had initiated contact first, in a way. After all, he'd placed his hands on her waist that day, lifting her up effortlessly and carrying her to a safe place away from the shattered glass that littered the floor. Unfortunately, he had let go almost instantly, expecting her to be like his parents.
He'd expected her to shrink away from his touch.
Which is why the last thing he'd expected was the sensation of her soft fingers against his chin, tilting his head up to meet her eyes… and then she smiled, and promised for a second time that night she would stay, even after seeing what he'd done to protect her
Brahms didn't know how to respond to that, his jaw flexing as he tried to find adequate words.
He regrets hesitating when she lets her hand fall to the side, causing him to subconsciously lean closer- before he stops. He's making assumptions again, and as secure in his choice that he feels now, beside her…there's always a chance he could be wrong.
Despite his fears, through the night, she makes a point to touch him again. It starts through subtle gestures- Ruby cupping his cheeks and causing him to regret wearing the mask that blocked him from feeling it, her taking Brahms's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze when he expresses discomfort at changing a rule, all before gently offering to put that rule's discussion on hold.
It isn't until the next day when she offers him a hug as she's serving breakfast that he truly realizes that maybe she really is different from his parents.
He starts initiating in little ways. He begins gently pinching her sweater when she's nearby- holding onto her without really touching her.
She smiles when he does this, and doesn't pull away with negative intent. Sometimes the soft fabric does slip out of his grasp, often when she moves quicker than he expected, or bends over to pick something up. Despite this, she always holds out a bit for him to grasp again as soon as she realizes, wordlessly indicating that she's comfortable with his habit.
Later, she'll tell him she likes it, and that it makes her feel tethered to him. But for now, all he knows is that she doesn't mind it.
Brahms doesn't think about the fact that she'd kept her word from the two's first night, sliding a blindfold down over her eyes and then kissing his cheek, his forehead, his lips. She never questions why he only allows her to kiss his left check, not his right, and he is grateful.
She must trust him immensely to let him guide her like this, Brahms's hand cupping her cheek or chin, Ruby leaning into his touch just enough to demonstrate how safe she feels.
In time, their encounters develop, an occasional loose arm around her waist when they lay in bed together, Brahms holding his breath as Ruby scoots so that her back rests against his chest, her arm moving to lay atop his, her fingers tracing little circles across the back of his hand before intertwining with his.
The pair's true tipping point was a day like any other- both members of the household rested on the couch reading to Brahms, his thoughts encouraging him to slide over to her because she wouldn't mind.
Resisting, he holds off, more concerned with Ruby's confirmation- and it only takes a chapter before she seems to understand, shutting the book and holding up the blanket for him, immediately embracing him and moving closer when he does the same for her.
She offers reassurances alongside her affection, promising him that he doesn't need to ask, or hesitate to touch her, or ask to be touched by her.
It makes him test the waters a little, nuzzling closer to her neck and inhaling the scent of her vanilla and raspberry shampoo. She nearly always wears her hair down now, and he sometimes wonders if it's because of him.
He wouldn't ask, but it feels like a strong possibility.
It's when she places kisses atop his head, the location where he'll feel it even with the mask, that it all truly sinks in- just how much of a feast of affection Ruby has provided him with, despite not demanding that he do the same.
It's about time he made that right, at least a little bit.
He bares everything to her, in his attic room.
Ruby sees him at his most vulnerable, raw state- scars on display and the room he's lived most of his life in before her, serving as a dimly lit setting. The doll he made to represent her sits uncovered and bared to her curious eyes.
Even then, she doesn't pull away like he'd assumed she would. Instead, she moves to hold him once again, and to comfort him in the wake of a nightmare that feels more and more like fantasy as time goes on. Fearlessly, she faces each unraveling secret as if it's not the earth shattering truth he thinks it is.
Even upon discovering that she was intended to arrive as a sacrifice, she doesn't flinch.
Instead, Ruby says the most impactful three words ever spoken to him.
That, that was the moment he knew he needed to make her his wife somehow, so that he would never suffer through a night without her again.
He's not positive which of them initiated things the first time they fucked.
He briefly recalls that she did, with a hand that slides down his chest before moving lower, all while she watches for his reaction, wordlessly indicating that she'll stop if he seems uneasy.
Ruby thinks that he started it, his hand on her hip gripping tight enough to pull her closer than ever, before he slid down to grasp her thigh, allowing her to straddle him.
In the end, they agree that it was mutual- their actions not quite enough on their own but more than enough together, especially when they help each other strip- frenzied kisses only coming to a temporary halt as they recklessly throw their clothes aside.
Brahms doesn't realize how hard he'd gripped his lover's hips as she moves, leaning down long enough to pepper his face with even more kisses. Neither of them notice the marks' semi-permanence until a few days later, when Ruby is getting dressed and Brahms catches a glimpse of the bruises.
The thought that he might've hurt her is an unhappy one, but when he comments on it to ask if she's ok, Ruby merely smiles and lifts her shirt to admire the unmistakable handprints in the mirror.
"I like them," she tells him. "It's like our little secret, you've claimed me so strongly it shows on my very skin."
Pleasantly surprised, Brahms smirks and promises to ensure that they never truly fade.
In time, it feels less like a feast.
Ruby never stops bestowing her affection- if anything, her ways of doing so only multiplies. Be it sharing her favorite snack with him, knitting a gift she'll place amidst his clothes when she thinks he's not looking, or shooting him a playful smirk despite the blood smeared across her face from addressing someone's rude comment.
In more ways than one, he is certain- She may be his forever, but he's Her forever as well.