His Many Masks *The Boy fan fiction*

Chapter Seven

"May you fall in love with someone who never gets tired of saving you from your own chaos."
                                                                      - Unknown

Brahms stood over me, his shadow drowning out the little light left in the chilled air.

His mask was milky white, its emotionless expression gave my arms and legs goosebumps. His eyes glistened underneath it.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice gruff and hoarse.

I didn't answer, my mind was swirling and my body was frozen. How did he get to me on time?

Brahms knelt beside me, "it's getting cold. You need to come back inside."

I didn't break out of my daze, until I felt myself being pulled up to my feet. Brahms offered me his arm but I couldn't mentally or physically take another step. Discouraged, I put my hand to my forehead, "I can't." I said. My ankle was throbbing and I was too shaken up to think properly.

Without a word, Brahms gently scooped me up. I flinched, but sunk into his arms cooperatively. While we were walking I caught his scent in my nose. He smelled of pine and old oak. It made my stomach warm and I almost felt safe.

Once we were inside of the house, Brahms sat me in the reading room. "I'll light a fire, and put the kettle on. You need to warm yourself up." I only stared back at him. My anger for him had melted and at this point. I was too dazed to feel any anger or better yet, any ill emotion towards him. He had saved my life.

Brahms returned with a tray. Two cups and a small teapot were placed neatly side by side on the tray. Brahms sat the spread on a small table beside the sofa I was sitting on. He then moved to the fire place and began to stoke it, making room for more logs to be burnt.

I studied his movements as he tended to the fire. His back muscles moved with his arms. He effortlessly picked up three large logs and set them in the fire without much exertion. I marveled at his strength, how was he so strong?

As I sat there studying him, I noticed his other features. His hair was a dark brown almost a black shade. It was curly and fluffy, it hung down a little past his ears and curled up by the nape of his neck. His hands were large, his fingers long and slender. My eyes shifted downwards, his legs were slender but muscular. His- I blushed and closed my eyes for a moment hoping to redirect my attention elsewhere other than his pants.

I felt a small twinge of embarrassment when he caught me staring, as if he knew I had been looking. That was the first time I had ever really looked at Brahms for more than a few seconds. It felt odd. I noticed a bunch of things I hadn't before.

The only light in the room was that of the fire which flickered aimlessly on the walls, and bookshelves. His mask was illuminated by the warm light which made my stomach tighten I really wasn't fond of the mask. I couldn't wait for the day that I could actually see Brahms, the real Brahms.

I leaned my head back on the back of the sofa, embracing the warmth from the fire. My fingers tingled as their temperature heated, finally reducing the amount of shivering my body was doing.

Brahms slowly walked to the sofa and sat beside me, my heart began to thud in my chest at the closeness. What was wrong with me? I don't have feelings for him. Do I?

It's only because he saved you. I quickly picked up a cup to try to aim my thoughts on something more distracting, I filled it with the hot steaming water, and placed a tea bag delicately inside. Brahms followed my actions, and sat back against the sofa.