The Broken Doll (Brahms x Reader)

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

The water of my shower comes as a soothing cascade. With a warm and steady hug, it awakens my skin in all the right ways. When I step out, I no longer feel weak or disoriented. It was as if the shower had washed my hangover away.

For today's attire, I choose comfy. Putting my hair up in a messy bun and throwing on an over-sized graphic tee, black high-waisted biker shorts, and white knee socks — the usual getup for when it's that time of the month. After I got dressed, I went to the kitchen where I was meant to meet Brahms. And surely enough, there he was. Standing behind the kitchen counter facing towards the stove with his back to me. I look on the table and notice he had put most of the groceries away, aside for a carton of eggs, bacon, onion, bread, and a few spices.

" Brahms," I speak.

He turns around, " Hello, Y/n," he greets.

I point to all the stuff he had left on the table and ask, " Are you making something with those?"

Brahms nods, " I thought I'd make us some breakfast now that we've got more ingredients to work with. Is that okay?"

" Yeah, that's fine," I respond.

" I wanna make up for the raw fish we almost had that one night," He says.

" From what we've seen of Hell's Kitchen together, I'm sure you learned a few tips and tricks."

He nods, " I'm going to attempt to make a dish from one of the episodes."

" Do you need any help?" I offer.

He shakes his head, " I want to see if I can do it on my own."

" Oh, okay..." I say disappointingly, " Well then, if you need any help, let me know."

I was just about to turn around to leave the kitchen until Brahms tells me not to go, " Wait, Y/n. Don't go," He says, " You can sit and watch me if you'd like," he suggests, walking over to the table to pull up a chair by the kitchen island for me.

" Sure, I guess I could stay and watch," I say, taking a seat, " You do need a taste tester after all," I smile.

" That's true," He agrees, taking out a cutting board and knife.

The knife he would be using was the same one he had threatened me with when we first met. And boy, have we come a long way from then. Here I was, in the same room as him while he had a weapon in his grip. Not used to harm me but, to cook us a breakfast. It's crazy to think about, really. I still can't wrap my head around it.

After rinsing the onion, he begins slicing it on the opposite side of the island so that he's across from me. I spectate closely at the placement of his hands. How his knuckles are pushed against the knife. How he makes symmetrical cuts using the blade of the knife to do the work instead of putting pressure down on it. It seems as though watching that cooking show has helped him out quite a bit. He looks like a natural.

After he's finished up the onion, he cuts up the bacon and then, Brahms turns around to take a few pans out from one of the bottom shelves. To get a better look at him, I put my hands on the countertop and push with my elbows to prop myself up. As he reaches for the knobs to turn on the stove's fire, he stops suddenly. When I saw how hesitant he was, I tried to encourage him.

" It's okay, Brahms," I reassure him, " You can do it."

Brahms wiggles his fingertips and looks as though he was gonna go for it but, at the last second he would pull his hand away.