Chapter Text
Felix’s leg wasn’t healing as fast as it should, and he noticed it immediately.
He’d stitched Brahms up once he’d gotten the bleeding to subside, but that was a month ago. Felix himself was still walking with a heavy limp, using one of Mr. Heelshire’s canes to help him.
Almost immediately after he’d gotten patched up, Brahms retreated back into the walls. He’d stop communicating with Felix when he did so, since their relationship had clearly changed since the reveal. Felix had cleaned up the body, replaced the mirror, and they both pretended it had never happened.
But Felix’s leg wasn’t healing.
It didn’t bother him the first month, he knew it would take a while. But as time went on, the gash stayed practically open. Even with changing the bandages every day, it wasn’t closing. He knew he needed stitches. And he tried to get them, but there was a block in that plan.
Brahms wouldn’t let him leave. Every time he tried to, he would either get a tantrum contained to the walls, get knocked out, or forcibly reminded of the rules. He let it happen for a while, but he was sick of it now.
So, in retaliation, he did his own stitches. He’d never been very good at sewing, and sewing skin was no different. It was a terrible job, and it hurt , but the gash was at least closed now. Maybe it would finally heal.
He still did the chores, even with his fucked up leg. He was afraid he’d have to move out, or buy the house now that the Heelshires were dead, but the concern was quickly crushed. Apparently, according to the man that informed him of their deaths, he had been in their will, and they had left the house to him.
This was a hell of a relief, and he knew it was because he was the only person they could trust to legally take over the house, since he’d worked for them so long. Sure he had to pay for the utilities now, but he was still getting paid so he could handle it.
He would pay any amount of money to keep Brahms bathing now that he could, so it really didn’t bother him all that much.
While the chores became less important to him now that he owned the house, he still did them regularly. Not every day anymore unless it was necessary, not that his leg would let him do that anyway.
He still played Brahms’s music loud and read to him too, even though there was no longer a doll to take care, though it did disappear when he’d gone to clean up Cole’s corpse. He was pretty sure Brahms had taken it, and was probably putting it back together.
Not that Felix would have known until he saw it again- it took another three months before Brahms emerged where he could see him, and it was only for a few seconds. Just barely long enough for Brahms to place the fixed doll in the parlour, and then he disappeared again.
Felix guessed he was supposed to pick up taking care of the doll again, so he did. At least it made him feel a little less lonely.
He took the doll everywhere with him after it’s return, sitting it down only when he needed his hands, went into the bathroom, or it was bedtime. And he still gave it that goodnight kiss that Brahms wanted so desperately.
To an extent, he was well aware of Brahms watching him more than usual when he went through the motions of bedtime with the doll. He wasn’t entirely sure why Brahms still cared so much about bedtime now that it was Felix tucking the doll in instead of Greta.
He didn’t mind though. He was used to Brahms watching him, and would get worried if he couldn’t feel the man’s eyes on him from behind the safety of the walls.
The only thing he still didn’t know about though was that Brahms still watched him sleep, but now it was different. When Brahms brushed his hair from his face, just to feel the softness, it held more tenderness. He stood there much longer than before, even sometimes sitting down on the edge of the bed.
But as soon as Felix moved, he was running back into the walls, afraid to be discovered again.
It was another four months before Brahms exited the walls in front of Felix again, and the first time he actually stayed out.
Felix found him in the kitchen, awkwardly attempting to make a cup of tea. He stood in the doorway and watched for a few seconds, wondering if he should just walk away or go help. He didn’t get the chance to choose, because Brahms turned around and their eyes met.
There was silence, before Felix spoke up. “Need help? I figure it’s been a while since you’ve made your own tea,” he said, leaning against the doorframe so Brahms knew he wasn’t going to just approach him.
Brahms was quiet for another moment, looking down at the ground and shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I… I’ve never made my own tea,” he admitted in that soft, young boy’s voice he used.
Felix still hated the voice, but he stopped himself from cringing in discomfort. “Alright, I’ll show you then,” he decided, making Brahms quickly look up in surprise. He took a big step to the side as Felix approached, letting him get to the kettle.
He watched as the groundskeeper filled the kettle with water and set it on the already hot stove (that was all Brahms had managed to do right) while grabbing the tea leaves at the same time. After letting the water heat up a little, Felix cautiously lifted the kettle’s lid and dropped the leaves in.
Brahms watched closely the entire time, slowly but surely moving closer until he was right behind Felix and watching over his shoulder. Felix could hear his soft breath at this point, even feel the heat radiating off of him. With how cold it had been lately, he almost leaned into it, but he wasn’t desperate enough to be warm to fuck up the progress they’d made.
“Thank you for staying,” Brahms muttered, in his normal voice, after a while, neither of them moving because Brahms had basically caged Felix in. “I was so scared you would leave, like Greta. Like my parents. That’s why I didn’t come out.”
“I know,” Felix replied just as softly, very slightly turning his head towards Brahms, “and I understand. I would be scared too. But I’d never leave you. I’m not just gonna give up after six years.”
Brahms hummed at that, before nestling his porcelain covered face in the crook of Felix’s neck, taking a deep breath in at the scent of him. He finished the cage, wrapping his arms loosely around the gardener’s waist.
Felix just let it happen, far more touch starved than he realized and more than grateful for the envelopment of heat. He leaned back into Brahms’s embrace, letting a soft sigh slip past his lips.
They stayed like that until the kettle started to whistle, the sudden sound making Brahms jump and pull even tighter against him. Felix couldn’t help but softly chuckle, leaning forward to turn the stove off, then grabbed the oven mitt closest by and pulled the kettle off the stove. “Do you still want tea?” he asked, and Brahms nodded against his neck.
He let the tea cool off a bit, pulling out of Brahms arms enough that he could grab the cups and pour the tea. Brahms was reluctant to let him go, but he wanted that tea. Finally, he released him and carefully grabbed his cup, sitting down at the table.
Felix was observant enough to know Brahms wouldn’t want to lift his mask around him, so he took his tea to the parlour, ruffling Brahms’s curly hair before he left.
Unsurprisingly, as soon as Brahms was done, he hunted Felix down and claimed his lap for his head, letting out a purr-like sound when he started running his fingers through the thick curls.
Felix wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into, but he found it rather amusing that Brahms clung to him so quickly.
And, admittedly, a little sad. But he could fix that.