His Many Masks *The Boy fan fiction*

Chapter Eight

"She wasn't exactly sure when it happened."
                                                                     -unknown

The next morning I stayed in bed an extra two hours after I had already woken up, mostly from embarrassment over the whole ordeal that had taken place the night before. It felt like a fever dream, the way everything went down.

I rubbed my eyes and rolled over on my side, desperately trying to think of anything other than last night.

Since my first night staying with Brahms, I had been offered a new room more compatible with my age instead of Brahms' nursery themed bedroom that I had stayed in the first night. I had taken it in a heartbeat, and had been enjoying the fact that I wouldn't have to worry about porcelain clowns and stuffed bears staring at me while I slept.

The door opened, pulling me back to reality. I popped my head up to see Brahms standing awkwardly in the doorway. Already feeling my face heat up, I turned away "Good Morning Brahms." I mustered, trying my hardest to keep my voice steady.

Brahms shifted on his feet, "I just wanted to check on you." He said.

I smiled, "thank you. I'm fine." The embarrassment of my nightmare of a night was laced in my voice. I felt weak.

Brahms nodded at my response and stalked away.

I flopped back onto my pillow and sighed, that was weird. I had never before felt so uncomfortable talking to someone like I felt talking to Brahms.

I buried my head in my pillow to get the redness in my face to go away but it was not working. Deciding that I needed a shower, I lowered my body off of the bed and onto the floor where I scooted to the bathroom. I only had one outfit, and that was the one I was wearing. I had an anorak, a long sleeve grey button down, wool trousers, and leather boots. I used to have a bag of extra tops and bottoms and some underwear but I sold them for food. I studied my clothes as I made my way to the bathroom, they were caked in old dirt and grass. It disgusted me that I didn't notice how filthy I was until now.

I normally would pick out a new outfit every few weeks if I came across a homeless shelter donation box but in the late winter months, they were scarce so I'd have to keep my clothes as clean as I could until I could get new ones.

Once I was inside the bathroom I didn't make haste undressing, and I quickly turned the water on. I crawled inside and sat on the shower floor drawing my knees to my chest. Old dirt and mud stained the water brown as it ran down the drain. I closed my eyes to avoid how disgusting I looked. It made me shiver to think that Brahms had seen me looking so filthy.

Brahms. Who was he to me?

Everything inside of me was screaming something different. It gave me a headache trying to decipher what I truly wanted. Was I beginning to like Brahms? What else could it be?

I tried to argue with myself, tell myself that I was just overly excited that he saved me, and was treating me so kindly but every time I saw him, I felt tingly and warm inside. I didn't like it by any means, but I couldn't control it. I tried to think of what was making me so attracted to Brahms, but in all honesty I couldn't tell. I had every reason to not be attracted to him, like the fact he has never shown his face to me or went in to detail about who he was.

Honestly, his mask didn't bother me at all anymore. I laid my head on my knees. What was I going to do? I occupied myself with scrubbing my arms, legs, body, and scalp with soap.

The warm water ran down my body and pooled underneath me in a soapy foam.

As I rested, I slightly dosed off, not able to win my fight against the drowsiness trying to take me. I enjoyed the feeling for a little while until even that couldn't suffice any longer and the water turned cold.