Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Despite everything he did for her, Greta still left.
After all the time she spent with him, being his nanny, and even after he saved her from that pompous excuse for a man she had been dating, she left...just like all the others.

Even his own parents who after the accident... and after the fire could not even bear to look at him, at his burnt and scarred face and made him live in the shadows, in the walls, made him wear a mask to hide the hideous image left on his face which made his mother cry every time he hadn’t been wearing it, transformed him into a doll to resemble the perfect child he was supposed to be and was not anymore.

He should have known, when Greta arrived it was as if his parents had been waiting for a reason to disappear entirely.
As soon as she accepted her position as his caretaker, they left.
But leaving him behind wasn't enough apparently so as the letter delivered to him said they decided to drown themselves, perhaps hoping for peace in heaven... if they deserved it though he wasn’t so sure.
He needed to rest, to make up a plan and understand what could be done before people and police came looking for clues about his parents desperate actions.
Thank god he knew exactly what to do and where to look.
Brahms got immediately to work, he walked into his father’s office and unlocked the hidden safe,
just how he was told to by his parents once they left for the supposed vacation.

As Brahms took out the neatly packed contents and examined them he was absolutely sure now that they had planned all of this…probably thinking he’d successfully keep the girl with him.

he stared at the face in the documents which was a mirror of his own…or at least what he thought his scarred face looked like without the protective layer of his mask, he hated it, that was why he always wore it and avoided looking in the mirror when he wasn’t.
The only thing that held him back from tearing the documents apart was that he knew that without those living here without his parents would be impossible.

Before greta came to be his nanny his Father had taught him what to do in case they were not able to come back right away, he found it weird but had quickly dismissed that thought figuring that his father was simply worried for him… and apparently he was wrong.

Brahms placed all the documents on the desk of what from now on will be his study and did as he practised with his father.
He sat down and searched in his mind for the number his father had him memorise and taking the telephone he dialled it in.

The phone rang once, twice, and before it could hit the fourth, somebody picked up.

A female voice answered in an almost robotic manner:
“Gerard Wilson’s legal studio, I’m Mr. Wilson’s secretary, Victoria. How can I help you?”

Brahms didn’t have the energy to bother with useless greetings, so he got straight to the point—just like he had practiced many times.
“Tell Mr. Wilson that Brahms Heelshire needs to speak with him. It is quite an urgent matter,” he said, slowly adjusting himself into a more comfortable position on the large chair.

“Mr. Wilson is quite busy right now. I will have to schedule you an appointment with him,” said the secretary, as the sounds of typing on a keyboard and scribbling on paper played in the background.

Brahms sighed, and after taking a long breath in and out, he asked again. After all, his temper had brought him nothing but problems.
“As I have already said, just mention my name to—”

Brahms was interrupted by the sound of what seemed to be a heavy sliding door opening, followed by a grave, secure-sounding male voice in the background.
“Victoria, who is it?” the man asked.
“Uhm, it’s Brahms Heelshire, he was—” the woman was immediately interrupted.
“Immediately direct Mr. Heelshire’s call to my office. You may go on your lunch break early today.”

And without another word, the sound of the door shutting echoed through the phone. Brahms slightly smirked as the secretary excused herself and redirected the call to her boss’s office.

⸻

“Brahms, I’ve been waiting for your call. I believe condolences are in order. I also received a letter from your father, so I know you’ll need the documents as soon as possible. Are we going to proceed as previously discussed?”

Brahms nodded, even though he was alone in the room and perfectly aware that his interlocutor couldn’t see him.
“Yes.”

His father was an intelligent man. Sure, he hadn’t been able to fix the horrendous problem he had inadvertently created when Brahms was just a little boy—when he didn’t know better than to play with sticks, pebbles, and rocks as munitions to defend his imaginary castle from enemy invasion, accidentally hitting his only friend on the head.

But he had managed to keep him safe and protected. And even if he hadn’t managed to keep Greta with him, his father had planned everything for the day when his mother and he would be gone.

The plan was simple: call his father’s lawyer, use the perfectly curated fake documents he had found in the envelope, and present them to the lawyer—who would take care of the rest.

In these documents, he had a different name. He had been adopted by the Heelshire family a few years after Brahms was declared dead, and had then been sent to study music in France.

The simple plan was created to allow him to inherit his father’s fortune without risking the unearthing of the whole past affair.

Now, he just had to gradually learn how to fit into modern society, because the only clause his father had made him agree to was that for the first couple of years, he would not have full access to the family’s former wealth…. yet. He will receive enough money to pay bills and basic expenses—groceries, for example…which, after everything that happened, would be one of many new responsibilities he would have to take care of himself.

He will have to find a job.. and after so much neglecting of basic and normal human exposition it won’t be easy, especially because the thought of having to go out of his comfort zone so much and so quickly too was already giving him goosebumps and making his neck and scars hitch.

Chapter Text

It took a while for Brahms to adapt to this new life. It had been almost three weeks since his “Reintegration to Society Project” started, and sure, it was proving to be tougher than expected, but he felt that with the help of Mr. William, he was making good progress.

He held special lessons for him. At first, it was only through phone calls in the evening, regarding subjects he already knew, like the basics of modern etiquette, how to appear social, and how to keep his temper in check.

After the fourth day, Gerard came knocking at his door instead. And even if Brahms didn’t feel completely comfortable with the thought of having guests… or any sort of human interaction, he put on his mask—not feeling ready to show the man who needed to help him his scarred face—and let him inside.

Mr. William was younger than he had imagined. By the timbre of his voice on the phone, Brahms had thought him to be around fifty years old, but in reality, he must have been in his late thirties.
He had slightly long and wavy brown hair, and what seemed like hazel eyes. His look was polished: no beard or mustache, not a wrinkle or stain on his formal clothes… even his skin looked spotless.

He felt the scars behind his mask itch.

Lucky.

“It’s really nice to finally meet you, Brahms!” Gerard said, sticking his hand out, waiting for Brahms to shake it.
He scanned the man from head to toe—not necessarily suspecting something was amiss, but more in an assessing manner. He noticed that he had a big bag with him, which contained a few white boxes.

“What’s that?” Brahms asked, even if it sounded more like a statement than a question.
“I took the liberty of buying you some technical appliances that you’ll surely need. And this,” he said, nodding slightly toward one of the boxes, “is a present from me,” he added, smiling.

Brahms didn’t really know what to say. Should he thank him? Or was it just a trick to get on his good side?
His thoughts were interrupted when Gerard spoke again, snapping him out of his inner monologue.
“Can I come in now?”
Brahms just nodded and held the door slightly more open, making enough room for the man to get through.

Mr. William took a general look around the place and seemed to be satisfied enough with how Brahms had managed to clean and fix whatever had been broken… well, everything except the wall, which was just covered by a piece of fabric he had found in one of the upstairs drawers.

After the general scouting of the area, Mr. William sat in the living room and hinted with a nod for Brahms to do the same.

“Alright then, Mr. Heelshire, you might be wondering why I came here personally today. And the answer is quite simple: to fit into modern society and to find—and especially keep—a job, you’ll need to work on and learn a lot of things.
I’m here to teach you and to offer my help and advice… also to explain to you how to use these,” Gerard explained, as he placed the boxes on the table in front of him with a sympathetic smile—which Brahms didn’t know if he hated or was kind of thankful for.

Brahms took the bigger box first and was surprised to see a kind of familiar object inside.
Greta had one of those too; she often had it on her lap or placed in front of her on some table. He had always been curious to know how the thing worked.
Then he proceeded to open the second, smaller box, in which he found what he knew—or at least guessed—was the newest digital phone on the market.
It was blue. He liked it.

Gerard spent almost the whole day explaining to Brahms how to use those machines.
He talked a lot, while Brahms stayed quiet, mostly responding with nods and short sentences.

Gerard also helped him create his accounts on a couple of different platforms and thoroughly explained how they worked and what they were for. One was for work and job offers; the others were for more common things like texting, researching things online, and—to his horror—the last one was to help him socialize when the time came.
Only thinking about that annoyed him.

“You should be all set with those ones,” Gerard said, smiling in a relaxed manner. “For someone who’s just been introduced to this, you remember everything pretty well. I’m impressed.”

Brahms had always been a smart boy, so it wasn’t a surprise to him—but the acknowledgment of his achievements always made him feel good.
He just gave Gerard a nod and stood up to accompany him out, as any good host should do.

“I’ll come back tomorrow with some other things. Have a good night!” he said with a genuine smile, while Brahms closed the door, nodding once again in silent agreement.

Over the next week, Gerard came almost daily to teach, explain, and also give an unsolicited number of fashion tips.

“You have to lose the mask,” he had said to him after staring for a while.
Brahms instantly stiffened. Before he could complain, Gerard added, “It’s not that I don’t like it… but no one will talk to you or hire you with that on. I know it’s a lot to ask in such a small amount of time, but the sooner we start, the better. You don’t have to show me your face now if you’re not comfortable—just start making peace with it by yourself.”

Brahms instinctively raised his left hand and stroked the side of the mask, just to make sure it was still there.
“Can’t,” he muttered, looking down.

He heard Gerard sigh.
“I know it’s tough, but if it helps at all… I’ve seen your ID picture in the documents. The scarring isn’t as bad as you think,” he said, giving Brahms a pat on the shoulder before standing up.

“And I’m sure that… after a nice shave and some skincare, if you put on a smile and start practicing smoother conversation, all the ladies will fall at your feet!” he said, winking before turning his back to Brahms and exiting the house.

Brahms scratched his beard behind the mask and reluctantly headed to the bathroom.
He gazed in the mirror and started thinking about whether or not what Gerard said was true…

…

…

Guess there’s only one way to find out.

Chapter Text

- 4 months later.

POV: YOU

Just five more minutes, only five…
I thought, as I snoozed my alarm for the third time.

It had been a while since I’d managed to get a good night’s sleep. I’d tried everything — exercising more, buying candles with relaxing scents, reading a physical book instead of using my Kindle or my phone…

No use.

Every.

Single.

Night.

when i eventually manage to fall asleep (thanks to the melatonin), it’s never deep enough to reach the real, restful sleep I need.

I feel restless. First, I’m too cold, then suddenly the most annoying wave of heat hits me out of nowhere; so I start to sweat, then kick the sheets off, only to get a mere hour of sleep before getting cold again.

I keep trying — and failing — to find a comfortable position. And when I finally do, the worst feeling of awareness creeps in, keeping my half-asleep brain on edge, thinking about how exposed and vulnerable my back feels.

So I build a little wall of pillows around me. Sadly, that keeps failing too, since I’m constantly tossing and turning.

As I snuggle into my pillow, an annoying ray of light finds its way onto my face. At first, I ignore it… but then—
“Wait… what time is it?!”

I shoot up and grab my phone.

7:45.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygodddd,” I mutter, nearly tripping as I jump out of bed.
“I’m gonna miss the bus!!” I panic, glancing at the wall clock while yanking on my pants.

I throw on the clothes I had laid out the night before, toss my makeup into my work bag—guess I’ll be doing that on the go—and rush to the kitchen for a quick glass of water. Then I grab my keys and dash out the door.

Thankfully, I make it to the bus stop just in time.

I couldn’t afford to lose this job.

- last month

Almost three weeks ago, I was working as a flight attendant. I loved that job…, even when I realized being away from home so often was sabotaging my whole life plan.

The few guys I liked seemed to disappear the second I mentioned my schedule.

So frustrated, sleep deprived and exhausted i got to my last flight of the week, 10 long hours of service, and i would have made it through perfectly like i always do if it weren’t for an absolute prick from the first class.

This guy, probably in his late twenties, had called me over to ask for more champagne, nothing unusual, as i walked back from his seat to go fetch his drink i felt his stare burning on my back, i didn’t love it of course but it wasn’t something i couldn’t handle, or that i hadn’t dealt with before… so i come back and pour him his glass of bubbly alcohol, lean closer to the seat so that i could hear him over the hum created by the motors of the plane, and automatically ask “is there anything else in which i may assist you sir?” i asked offering a polite smile.

that’s where all that could have gone wrong went even worse.

“actually there may be a thing..” he murmured scanning me from head to toe, making me shiver with disgust.

i had dealt with creeps before , even worse ones, but today i was tired, overstimulated and possibly even a tiny winy bit depressed after staring at the cute newlywed couple sitting near the plane’s emergency door… and it was looking like god was still deciding to test my limits.

my smile became faker.

“of course, whatever you need sir” i said trying my best to not sound disgusted or disrespectful.

“you see..” his face leaning closer to mine “the plane will land in less then half an hour, would you like to come home with me, have dinner and maybe have some fun?” he said with a smug grin.

sure some of her colleagues had hooked up with first class clients before but not me, i’m not a one night stand type of girl, but even if i were, it would not be with this pompous looking finance bro. nuh huh.

i couldn’t hold back a little sigh of annoyance “look Sir-“

“oh don’t act all high and mighty, there are girls who have begged me to take them to bed you know? You have such a pretty mouth you should use it for something more useful than to waste peoples time playing hard to get” as if the pure nonsense that was spewing from his mouth wasn’t enough to tip me over the edge, the moment i felt his right hand sliding over my lower back and then plant itself on my buttocks to give a firm squeeze that’s when i really lost it.

Despite my better judgment, my hand had acted faster than my brain could register and slapped this dude right into that perfectly cured face of his.

“FUKING BITCH-“

There was a moment of silence followed by all the passengers in the first class turning towards us.

oh no… what did i do-

“this bitch fucking slapped me!” he said while holding his hands on his face.

i look down at my hand in shock and see my superior coming to see what’s going on while another one of my coworkers guides me to the front of the plane.

“y/n, what happened?!” asked my coworker, but i was still looking at my hands in disbelief…shit i was also wearing rings…i fucked up big time.

time passed pretty quickly, i don’t even remember what happened for the last few minutes of the flight just my supervisor, telling me to stay out of sight and stay put.

so i did, and when we landed nothing could have prepared me from the scolding i received.
i tried explaining what happened but of course since i reacted physically i went straight to being in the wrong.

Apparently i was lucky he decided to not sue the company, but the look of my coworkers said enough.

everyone knew this was my last flight as steward.
even i knew.

Fired.

For the first time i have been fired…

If it thought i was feeling bad.

The trip home was even worse.

Actually, let’s bot sugar coat it, i felt like shit.

i entered my apartment even more defeated and lonely than when i left it three days ago, as i closed the door and dragged the luggage in i collapsed.

Honestly it’s a surprise how, me, an easy crier, lasted so long without breaking down in front of everyone, even in the taxi i only let out a couple of silent tears but nothing more.

I laid there for a few minutes or maybe even hours, who was keeping track of time anymore at this point.
I got up to go get some tissues when i heard the faint sound of my ringtone, so i grabbed my coat and took out my phone from the right pocket.

“Bianca🫀🫧 “ is calling.

My best friend.

“ughh this girl and her perfectly timed calls, i swear she always know when something is going on” i muttered while wiping away the tears that were drying on my cheeks with the back of my hand.

There is no point in not answering, this girl has my location and knows i just got home…
“i’ll just pretend to be too tired or something after all it’s almost midnight..” i muttered as i steadied my uneven breath.

“heyy-“

“y/n, what’s wrong?”

HOW?!

“uhm, why should something be wrong?”

“you always text me when your plane lands, and you got home 1 hour ago, are you ok?” she asked in a hurried tone.

“yeahhh i guess i wasn’t paying attention, i’m super tired-“

“yeah, no. something is wrong i can feel it” bianca said annoyed, there goes my plan to keep this just between me and no one else…

“ok yeah something has happened” i sighed and i flinched at the little involuntary voice crack that came with the admission.

“but i’m not in the mood to tell you right now.. can we talk tomorrow?” i hated how pitiful my tone sounded but i really just wanted to get a shower, slide into my bed and sleep. (after all post crying sleep somehow always hits the spot).

“of course love, anything you need… you know what tomorrow evening i’ll come over and prepare us a nice dinner ok? you just relax and i’ll worry about everything” Bianca said.

“you know you don’t have to.”

“but i want to.”

“what about Sebs?”i asked teasingly, the corners of my lips lifting hinting a smile “how will he do without his precious girlfriend, on a saturday evening on top of that!”

“aw stop it he’ll be fine” Bianca chuckled, probably remembering how her Boyfriend was super sad of not being included in our girls nights. “you are just jealous i have a boyfriend who’s obsessed with me” i could imagine her twirling a lock of her hair with her finger.

“yeah, yeah, keep bragging” i laughed and finally stopped feeling the need to keep crying.

“ok then good night!” Bianca said before being interrupted by a voice in the background that came across muffled, “yeah, it’s y/n… yep, Seb also said goodnight”

“ok girl.. then i’ll see you tomorrow! good night Bianca, good night Sebastian”

“Niiight!” Responded both voices before i ended the call.

- the day after -

As i predicted, after that much crying, i tired myself out enough and slept considerably better than i usually do, but it came with a price… as i woke up my eyes were so swollen that even fresh water wasn’t helping, i had to take my ice-bag out from the freezer and pop it on my face for a couple of minutes.

I spent the day in my bed reading a book in the hopes to forget reality even if for a minute (which always works like a charm by the way), until it was almost dinner time and Bianca’s Knocks sounded at the door.

-

As Bianca moved skilfully through the kitchen i started setting the table for the two of us, and then joined her.

“what’s this bottle over there?” i asked picking up the bottle that was poking out of her bag on the counter.

“it’s the wine for the risotto” Bianca said while cutting up two small onions, “we need just a little and then we can drink the rest!” she said excitedly while humming a tune.

I usually don’t drink—especially not wine—but it was all we had at this point, and Bianca loves it, so… who was I to say no to my best friend?

-

As dinner was ready and the alcohol started flowing i found myself emptying my heart out to Bianca, like usual, about the disaster that had happened at work.

“i wish you could go back and look up the name of that prick, i would love to have a chat with him” Bianca said pounding her clenched fist on the table.

“at this point i just hope my rings left a mark on his face for at least a few days” i admitted while laughing .

“well in my book you did nothing wrong, but i think you already know that” Bianca said taking another sip of her wine.

“yeah, but now what?! i barely have enough to pay for only two months of rent at best”

“Hey now that you mention it, i might have something..”

“i will not become a stripper i already told you-“

“but u would make so much money ughhhh”She jokingly sighed looking defeated.

“no but on a serious note i might really have something for you”.

-

Bianca then mentioned that her Uncle, Michele, Owner of one of The Best Italian restaurants in the whole city was short on waitstaff, so I offered to help out for the time being and got hired right way…i suspect the fact that Michele has known me for a few years and Bianca putting a good word out there for me might have also helped me a whole lot there.
Not complaining though.

And that’s why I’m sitting on the bus doing my makeup—I can’t face a full day of work looking like crap.

Michele runs one of the fanciest (yet surprisingly affordable) Italian restaurants in the city called “gli amanti”.
Bianca’s boyfriend works there as well, he is the chef, and he is really talented. On Tuesdays, Michele hosts something called “Opera Night,” where dinner is accompanied by a pianist playing live in a mask—just like The Phantom of the Opera. I haven’t been assigned to one of those nights yet, though. I only work Mondays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Sundays, but my coworkers say it’s magical, and apparently, the pianist is insanely talented.

The restaurant opens at 11:30 a.m., but since I need to be there early to help set tables and do all the little side quests, I usually arrive at least an hour ahead.

Just as I finish fixing my eyeliner and pulling out my setting spray, a notification pops up from the work group chat. I open it immediately.

Michele🧑🏻‍🍳: Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that we’re moving Opera Night from Tuesday to Friday due to high demand from the public.

Katie: that’s fantastic!! thank you!💕

Sebastian: got it boss🫡

you: no problem at all:)