It was eventful, he could say that. It wasn't completely boring but rather quaint, well for him that is. He hadn't been outside in the public eye in a very long time and yet he felt like he didn't feel any different for some odd reason. The faces he saw didn't change but rather regressed in a few places he wouldn't deem too fond of. Strangers to him obviously but he could live without needing to know what else was out there. Maybe that was the homesickness talking and taking over his brain. Perhaps he was being a negative nelly, as his mother once said to his father about going out on a Wednesday afternoon. He didn't understand any of that nonsense, but he was being rather sour at the moment. It was only one day, an experience he wasn't too excited in attending but he did it for his Greta. Granted Brahms could not lie though about the visit, it was thrilling and interesting all the same but that was just it, most of the human faces he saw were the same. The stations and stores were the only thing that changed from the inside, but the outside did suit him. He preferred his home and that was it, truly.
Maybe he was being a downer, perhaps he should think of something else, but he couldn't stop returning to Greta's little outburst. He hadn't expected it, truly he hadn't, Brahms thought she'd be at least a little happy having the one chance to go out and about on her own. He trusted her, secretly, of course, he didn't want to tell her though. Sometimes he felt like he should though, he scowled at himself, what a mess, he thought rather vexed. An unwelcome mess he wanted completely vanished from his mind and never wished to think of it again. Witnessing none other than bloody Malcolm at the end of the street. Out of all the people, all the men in this town, why did it have to be him, it was excruciating knowing Greta would've called for him if their eyes met. Perhaps God was on Brahms's side for once and allowed his Greta not to see Malcolm in the markets. Quietly he thanked God for his generous gift. Maybe it was luck but soon that luck would run dry eventually and Brahms would have no other choice but to take matters into his own hands.
Brahms always swore he was deemed to be nothing but a cursed man. His Greta might've left him for Malcom if he did not make the bright decision to intervene and take control of the situation. Maybe that was why she was mad. No, he thought quickly dismissing it, because his Greta didn't even see Malcom. Brahms didn't have a choice, what else could he have done to stop that massive predicament from happening? He didn't want her eyes on bloody Malcolm, he wanted them on him, all on him. Brahms was the shining star and Greta was his captivating audience who demanded nothing, but a stunning show provided by yours truly.
Brahms took a sigh in his room as he thought like a child once more. He couldn't help it, it was what came natural for him, it's how he coped with not understanding what was wrong with his Greta. Brahms was constantly pacing himself into a box not daring to break out of its lines. Greta was upstairs in the kitchen, cooking again. He could practically smell her aroma from down here and it was simply driving him mad. The food smelled good too of course, her culinary skills were different. Considering she wasn't from here in the U.K but the U.S.A and maybe their foods differed in tastes and smells, he thought rather quickly. Well, whatever it was he liked it a lot.
He wanted to go up there, but he didn't. Maybe it was fear that was holding him back from going up there to face her. He desperately tried to understand, he did try but his brain didn't think like she did. He knew this but he felt like his way was always the right way and that she should follow him. It was his mansion but just thinking that way sounded unpleasant. It made him cringe inside, like how his father and his brainless hunter friends might act toward their wives. Brahms didn't want to be that way, no, not ever, he would essentially forbid it from his brain. He didn't want to be known as a heartless freak. The charlatan with nothing to offer but a mere nuisance in the household. Afterall, he did tell Greta that this was just as much her house if she stayed under this roof. It would've been extremely lonely if he hadn't kidnapped her that night. He couldn't hold himself back, he just couldn't. After seeing her with Malcom all day out on the town going to stores, eating, talking, he was constantly making her laugh. It made Brahms blood boil; she was laughing with Malom and not with him. Granted he shouldn't have been spying because he'd only hurt himself but that was in the past now. It still bugged him though from time to time. He just needed to try and move past it because in the end Brahms got the girl. Yes, Brahms has his sweet Greta and now it's a happy ending and yet it didn't feel entirely happy on the one side of this arrangement.
Quickly and rather swiftly Brahms decided maybe he should go up there and attend to her needs… well if she needed anything from him at the moment, he'd be definitely there. With a soft sigh before his mask, he ascended into the main part of the manor. He was still competing whether to ask her what was wrong. Why was Greta mad at him? He felt like an utter child all over again. Always being scolded for doing something and half the time he didn't know what he even did wrong. Maybe he should pay more attention to his actions and be a little more careful around her. Sometimes it felt like it was hopeless, but he needed to push through. In his mind, she was making him want to propel and he never used to be that way until she came back. Well, he kidnapped her of course, but that was beside the point! His Greta was changing him, and he didn't know whether that change was good for him or bad for him. It was confusing and alluring at the same time, but it didn't feel good knowing she most likely did not have a smile on her beautiful face.
Brahms exited out one of the secret passageways within the walls. He may be a big, and tall man but he could fit in very small places still after all these years, surprisingly. Maybe he could've been one of those flexible athletes in another life, he thought amusingly. Another childish thought, he mentally punched himself in the head. Focus on what was happening. His Greta was mostly still mad… maybe? He wasn't entirely certain, he supposed he'd just have to go in there and see for himself. He was rather scared though; he was feeling tight inside and not in a good way either. It was like he was afraid to see her and what she was doing. It was amazing Brahms acted so tough and crazy at times but when it came to simply walking into his own kitchen with his love anger at him was a whole other story.
With his hands in his pockets and didn't make a sound with his lightly stepping feet he was near the kitchen doorway, but he stayed to the side. He didn't want to go in yet, something was holding him back and he hated it right now. He should be able to go in there and just talk to her, it wasn't hard. She could talk so easily without much thought, why couldn't he do that without any hesitation?! This is ridiculous, and this was what he was talking about. He never used to think this way and Greta was doing this to him and he didn't know if he liked it. It felt like it was all too much.
Brahms pushed through and went around the door frame into the kitchen but ceased seeing her strain pasta into a bowl in the sink. She saw him out of the corner of his eye when he entered. Brahms huddled his limbs together standing in his spot rather stiffly. Greta just looked from side to side waiting for him to say something. Well, he wanted to speak but just couldn't get it out, again.
"Yes?" Greta said aloud, rather puzzled by him just standing there and not moving into the room. "Did you need something?" she asked simply. The tone felt off to Brahms, he could hear it, it wasn't the same. It was rather dense, and straight to the point. That only confused him even more. She looked almost impatient but holding it back like he was bothering her.
Brahms quickly shook his head to dismiss her questioning assumptions.
"Ok well, dinner's almost done." She turned back to making her pasta and tossed it back into the metal pot. It was so simple the words and it was killing Brahms inside. He wanted something more from her lips and not just a kiss which he wouldn't deny of course but he wanted her happy tone back. Her exhilarating smile and overstimulating energy of talking about things he never even thought of, and he wanted more of those thrilling discussions. So, why is this happening, he thought sadly. He did something she didn't like, and it was bothering him to high heaven. Maybe if he fell on the floor right now just to get her attention maybe then she'd talk to him and say more than just simple boring words. That was plan B but let's try plan A and push through the struggle of going up next to her without dying of rejection.
Brahms put his hands behind his back as he walked near her a little more but still kept some space between the pair. He leaned a little next to the counter as she worked silently but soon stopped when she felt him looming over her.
"What?" Greta said with squinted confused eyes. Brahms brought his hands in front of him now twiddling with his fingers like a child. Greta just took a sigh. "Brahms, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."
He simply wanted to ask what was wrong with her, not him. It was her he was so worried about. The off-putting demeanor and the quick short answers. That face she was making right now. Maybe he just didn't know how to start, could you blame him though, he wasn't exactly like everyone else. He wasn't like those people he saw on the streets. The brainless loudmouth annoying people he can do without having to make another appearance. He'd reject all those aspects and the ideas of leaving but he did it for her and yet here Greta was being nothing completely unreadable and it was hurting him inside.
Brahms needed to calm down, his mind was running ragged, and he needed to pace himself as he did every so often to maintain his composure. Maybe he can help her with dinner, let that be a start at least, he thought rather hopefully.
Brahms pointed to the food she was cutting until she stopped to turn her attention to him. Greta followed his finger towards the vegetables and turned back to him as she spoke.
"You want some now? The foods almost done though." She said a little confused, but Brahms quickly shook his head and went around her to the food on the stove. He looked down for a moment until taking the big wooden spoon and steering the pasta inside. Greta suddenly perked up at the realization.
"Oh, you want to help?" She said a little surprised. Brahms nodded at her more eagerly. He was determined to help her in any way he could. Maybe it would make her look less… sour faced.
"Well, thank you Brahms, but I… kind of already did everything." She said with a little wince as she pushed the vegetables in plain bowl and washed the cutting board. Brahms felt a sudden sting in his heart, maybe he should've come up here sooner rather than creating an annoying war in his brain. He felt rather guilty getting her to do all this work just for him. He never used to feel this way, feeling guilty about someone making a meal for him and he should have offered help sooner. Well, she didn't ask for his help, no, don't do that, he scowled to himself. He should've offered, he knows better, he wasn't heartless. His mother would've shunned him for doing something so rudely. Even though he grew up with nannies and butlers to do everything for him as a child and in his secret adult years. Now, it was as if he was suddenly releasing how much work goes into making a simple meal for the night.
Greta could see his tension lessened but he didn't seem pleased. He obviously wanted to help in some way even if it wasn't very helpful. Where were you when I needed you, she thought rather disappointed a little, but her heart and mind wouldn't stop from saying something to make him feel useful.
"You can… set the table." She said carefully but didn't look at him. "I didn't get a chance to bring out the plates, forks, napkins, and glasses. Maybe, you can do that for me?" She was giving him the list of things to put on the table without hopefully messing up. Well, she didn't see him as a stupid person, he was smart, but he was rather slow at times.
Brahms stopped stirring the pot and nodded at her. He went to the cabinet and took out two plates.
"Actually, uh, Brahms I might need one more plate for the bread." He nodded again anxiously but with understanding. He took everything out and went to the door to go to the dining room as she watched him but quickly spoke up.
"Hey, we don't have to eat in there." He turned to her words, rather bewildered. He looked as though where are we supposed to eat? That was where they always ate their food, but Greta didn't want to sit at such a massive table. It always felt rather bare to her.
"I was thinking… maybe we could eat in here. It's nice and warm and it's cold in that room. We can eat at the kitchen table, if that's alright with you?" She asked him calmly with a shrug. Well, he couldn't say no but didn't normally eat in the kitchen. Well, it's not like he'd be eating anything right now, it would be late tonight so he could feast in peace alone in his room. Sadly, that didn't sound as great, wishing he didn't look the way he did so he could enjoy the meal she had made for him in front of her. Tell her how good it is and how much he appreciated her. Nevertheless, Brahms was obliged to turn around and place the utensils and eating wear on the table with ease.
Greta turned as she smiled just a little before speaking up once more.
"Brahms, pass me the first plate please." She turned already, seeing he was there in shock. "Oh! That was fast, uh… thank you my fast little helper." She chuckled a little. Brahms eyes widened a bit with triumph as her face lit a bit with pleasantry. He liked being called her little helper; it was making him swell with shining pride for helping her. He felt giddy now like a child once more. He should've been doing this years ago. Well, considering she wasn't supposed to know he still existed but now he can be a helping boy. He handed her the rest of the plates, and she handed them back filled on every corner. Brahms carefully placed them down and then saw Greta was washing up at the sink.
"Ok, all done here," She wiped her hands on the towel. "You can sit Brahms. I'll be right there." She urged him to sit as she went over to the other side of the table and pulled out the seat. Brahms wanted her to be seated and comfortable first before he decided to sit down as well. She got situated and took a tired sigh. They sat across from one another. Brahms folded his hands on the table like he always tried to remain proper like in his much younger years. He was always so used to eating alone he didn't care what he looked like or how he ate. Now that a lady was here, he'd be more well-mannered, as his mother might've said to him a few times in his life. Plus, it was Greta, and he really didn't want to repulse her by doing something out of the ordinary. God, he was always labeled as the odd one for doing odd things, but he didn't want to that way anymore. Greta was changing him, and he wanted to say something about it, but he couldn't get out the right words. It only frustrated him more and more as the seconds turned into minutes. Passing by in a flash.
"I hope you like spaghetti and meatballs. I put the fresh tomatoes in here for sauce with some basil too. Just to give it a little flavor with the vegetables." She spoke up rather quickly like someone was running after her. "I'll pack your food, don't worry, hope you like it." Of course, he'd like it, why wouldn't he? Anything she threw at him would be acceptable. Brahms just nodded a little feeling rather awkward, like a conversation should be in order but who would speak first on it. Deep down, he wished she would just say something and get it over with. It was practicing killing him so much he thought he might pass out any moment. He was actually sweating under the mask, and it was very annoying feeling the droplets he couldn't swipe away.
"So, did you… enjoy being out for the first time in a very long time?" she asked, twirling some spaghetti in his fork calmly.
How was it, he thought, perplexed? Why is she asking about that? Who cares?! She should be talking about why she was so mad at him and was very good at hiding it by the way. Why did Brahms feel like he was losing his touch. Feeling as though he was missing something, his sixth sense, the one where he saw everything so clearly with his own sharp eyes and yet now, he felt blind as a bat. She was waiting for him to reply, and he had to ask, he just had to say something before she really became mad at him. He struggles on the inside with a constant battle to find the right words to utter without making a mistake, but he is stuck in a ditch. He was absolutely cornered by the demons that mocked and laughed at him for not being able to utter any words to his Greta. Deeming him an utter cowered and a worthless waste of a life.
Brahms couldn't take it, so he looked down a little at his long lap. He simply shrugged for an answer. He didn't really have an answer anyways, what did she want him to say? That he had a fantastic time and that they should do it more often? Well, that wasn't about to happen, he loved his home too much to leave it behind to rot. He didn't want to believe she was pulling him in a trap and get him to forget everything he knew and appreciated. Yes, he had her by his side, but he always needed his home too. Leaving it behind would be a piece of himself being lost and forgotten. He didn't know if he could ever do that.
"Well, it seemed like you had fun." Greta said nonchalantly. "I mean you were gone for like almost the whole day. I didn't even know where you'd gone." It wasn't intended to sound mean or anything but she was being genuinely serious and yet she didn't want to kill herself over it. The look before her eyes told it all though, she wasn't exactly pleased with him. Yes, he did leave and didn't even bother to tell her where he was going. He hadn't been out in years and to the very least he should've stayed near her. Also, he didn't even help her with the shopping or anything. It felt rather rude and a little selfish. She guessed she could understand that he wanted to go out and see what he'd missed after all these years, but they could've done that on another day. Their focus was getting food and then getting back and then maybe they could've gone out again just to sight see or something. It was a ridiculous thought to Greta; it sounded rather stupid honestly but none of this was entirely normal. Sitting here with a man who had many mental issues and suppressing many painful memories and coped by playing with a doll and wearing a creepy mask to put over his burned face. Well, it was kind of obvious he was self-conscious about his appearance and didn't want to show her at all on account of what happened last time.
"Brahms," she said more swiftly now as she put down her fork and gave all her attention to him. "I don't know how you expect me to keep doing this. I thought maybe if you saw the… well, the outside world you might get a different perspective. It wasn't that bad, right?" She asked. Brahms took a moment to answer but shook his head.
"Right," She huffed a little. "I know I'm suppose to be your nanny even though I think we moved passed that aspect, but I can't do everything." Here it was, the truth, it was true, Greta couldn't do everything, and it's been months and months now. She did everything for him and he was a grown man. He wasn't a child that needed looking after, he was capable of making a small meal, cleaning sheets, doing the laundry, taking out the trash, it was basic everyday stuff. This house was huge too and she wasn't going to do everything like a slave.
"I just… I enjoy hanging out and talking with you when things are nice and quiet, but I've been doing everything, and it feels like nothing is working for you." Brahms looked rather confused by that. "I mean, you don't even trust me to walk down the street without pulling me into an alley way and I don't know why you did that, but it was a little weird." Brahms eyes widened for a moment as his heart always thumped out his chest. So, she didn't see bloody Malcom, he thought, thank goodness.
"I wish… you would just… speak to me. Maybe then, I can understand why you don't give me enough credit." It was true, Greta was doing her best. Afterall, she was a kidnapped victim of abuse, and she didn't utter a word to anyone that she was being held hostage, but she never told a soul.
"I mean, you didn't even offer to help me," She chuckled a little leaning back as if not completely surprised. "I had to do everything on my own, just like always." He didn't know if she was referring to her past or now, but it seemed like she'd been through this before.
"I don't expect you to say anything to me but, just know that I've been doing my best to take care of you and now I feel like I can't even take care of myself anymore." She sounded so dead inside. Tired, and rather malnourished even though she was eaten. It didn't seem to be helping. Brahms suddenly felt guilty, so guilty, it was practically eating him alive. Had he worked her to the bone. How long had it been? Time went by so fast he forgot the days. He was happy, he didn't see anything else but his Greta here with him and that made him whole, but Greta was breaking into tiny pieces right before his very eyes. She was stressed on the inside and he hated that she was feeling this way. He wanted to help but he didn't know how, Brahms felt so worthless he could cry but not in front of her. Brahms wanted to be the strong one, the one she can depend on when times get tough. He didn't want to be a horrible snotty brat and complain anymore, he was tired of himself and now that was changing. As much as he'd like to rip off this mask and kiss her, he wouldn't, maybe if he was a different man, in another life he could do it without any regrets but the rippled burns he carried held him back from doing so.
With her face descend, gawking at her food rather uninterested. Brahms took the opportunity to stand up slowly without making any noises. Greta quickly saw he was raising and was about to ask what he was doing until he was walking around the table going towards her slowly. Careful not to frighten her he went down slowly on one knee in front of Greta's sitting body.
With a confused demeanor, Greta pushed back her chair a little, but Brahms stopped her with ease. He didn't want to frighten her. Face to face with each other now. Brahms looked up at her wide eyes that she could never read but this time she said something different. It looked comforting and unwary in a way. Greta just looked at him with a little concern but now that she looked at him, he was the one that was concerned. Brahms eyes spoke in powerful silent waves that still couldn't be placed but one thing she did know was that he cared about her.
Brahms placed a firm hand on her thigh and the other on her resting hand on the table. She could hear the echoes of his heavy breathing.
"I… I'm sorry." It strains him to speak. "Please… don't be mad at me… anymore." His deep voice struggled to talk normally. It was like he was fighting to take control.
"I'm… not mad, anymore." She said carefully. "I was just… disappointed, I thought maybe you'd want to spend the day with me." When she said that to him it didn't sound right. Did she want to spend the whole day with him, she did that every day against her will and so far, it hasn't stopped but she could see the uplifting spirit in Brahms. It didn't feel right but Brahms seemed to enjoy the words she reluctantly uttered to him.
She wanted to spend the day with him, HIM! He was so stupid, why did he go off on his own like an idiot. This wasn't about him though, he reminded himself with a hardship battle that end seemed to end. This was about Greta and making her feel better.
"Greta," He whispered inching closer to her side. She could feel his heavy hand riding up her thigh more and more. Greta's heart speeds up at the sudden feeling she didn't really need right now. Whether he knew it or not he kept his eyes on hers the entire time. He looked so desperate like he always does whenever he got this close to her. That fear still lingered within her bones that he was dangerous, and she'd never forget that, but the touch was very unexpected. She wanted to push him away but stopped in fear he might get into an outburst.
"Yes," She whispered back to him with a heavy beating heart and her brain felt like it was about to collapse from the closeness.
"I… trust you." Brahms said calmly. It was so calm and collected that she could barely hear it, but she did indeed hear it. Deep inside Greta's very being was a light that sparked to life. She felt relief and utterly left go and did something she didn't think she ever doing willingly.
Greta unexpectedly pulled Brahms by the neck and held his head right into her chest. She held him tight, and she could feel that he was unprepared for this quick movement. Greta held the side of his head closely to her and his mask face rested under her chin. He slipped half his body in between her legs as he held her waist tight in the very close embrace.
It was so unexpected and yet she was having trouble believing what had just happened. It happened so fast; he was having trouble remembering her grab him so strongly. It was almost as if she had his strength, he liked that. Feeling her hand on the back of head, her fingers intertwined with his dark locks and her smell was intoxicating. He could feel himself getting that stimulating feeling as he pressed up against her and he never wanted to move away from his Greta. It was a bittersweet moment though for Greta that is because she got what she wanted and now the door was opened.
When Greta released her hold on his hand slowly, she smiled a little. Brahms put a hand lightly on her cheek. His thug pressed the corner of her lip raising it up. He wanted her to smile more. Greta giggled a little as she swatted him away and surprisingly, he listened. He must've been smiling underneath the mask because when he rose to stand, she could see on the sides his cheeks were rising. It was rather cute, but Greta didn't need him to know that anytime soon.
"I'm glad." She stood as well looking up at him and he looked down at her. She suddenly broke contact with a clearing of the throat, as if she didn't want it to go any further.
"Well, I guess I'll clean up." She spoke softly, pushing her hair behind her ear and went to pick up a plate but was stopped by a light grasp on the wrist. She quickly looked up to see Brahms was leading her away from the plate. With a little rub of the arm, he offered her assistant without uttering another word. Brahms simply picked up the plates himself and took care of everything. All Greta had to do what sit and relax, she did enough for him tonight, he thought very thankful for that.