the red caped crusader was in too deep.

he should have known not to stay after the skeleton boy’s outburst, should have felt wary with every fit of fury that followed, should have slipped away into the night when ribs and hipbones no longer protruded from under that thick mocha and ivory coat. silas had done none of those things, his own curiosity and attraction to the young man keeping him in the general proximity of the other. he’d watched over the last months with smug satisfaction as his boy gradually returned to a healthy weight - there was something incredibly satisfying, in a very primal way, that it was him that had returned this treasure into good health. and when the younger man had stopped flinching every time that silas stepped on a twig or could be seen in his peripheral, well silas had positively preened.

they did not interact unless necessary, as it had been when he’d come to the realization that the skeleton boy was physically harming himself, but it was silas who spent his nights watching over the skeleton boy. it was his teeth that kept wandering predators from getting too close, his presence that warned strangers not to get too curious. and perhaps it was slightly sick, but moral did nothing to dull the feeling of possessiveness that silas held towards the hellion he guarded. he held fractured pieces of memories, each coming back in snippits and flashes - a pair of broad, muscular wolves that were never apart, a fox-like female with flashing eyes, a silent and heavily burned warrior. he had no recollection of who these wolves were or why they were important but he knew that they were. after every dream they were featured in, his heart ached and mourned as though a piece of him had died. silas sought comfort in his charge, found it in knowing that his constant presence kept the skull faced boy safe.

some would call it an obsession, others would call it curiosity. he didn’t dare to give it a name, not when he didn’t have any claim on the boy. if his skeleton truly wanted him to leave, if he blatantly told him to go and never return, if he engaged him for once, he would be forced to. his painful attraction was plainly unreciprocated and his ties to the boy were barely existent, save for his dependency on the other. as it was, the warrior had taken to running himself ragged for the other, fighting sleep for days at a time and praying that it would allow him a dreamless sleep. between visions of wolves he couldn’t remember and fantasies that would never come true about his boy, his dreams were more like nightmares.

he was not invincible, far from it, and occasionally did sleep overtake him without warning. he had not meant to doze off, but the warmth of the sun shining against him soothed him into slumber. his dream was a lively one, full of those wolves he could no longer remember and his boy. it was - they were happy. he could tell: could see it in the peace that relaxed the shoulders of the burned warrior, the softness in the fox-like female’s face, the slumped body of his boy against him. something out of place drew his attention, a noise just loud enough on the edge of his conscience to draw him to barely wakeful state. his nose twitched slightly as a familiar scent flooded his senses and he sleepily smiled, green eyes still firmly shut. silas took a long moment to relish the feeling of contentment, of his boy’s scent in his nose, and then slowly opened poisonous eyes. he rolled to his side and then twisted the upper portion of his body to lay on his back, paws flipped at the wrist and flopped over his chest. ”hello leannan,” he crooned, voice raspy with sleep. the term of endearment slipped from his mouth thoughtlessly, a language not of blossom forest rolling with ease off his tongue. without thinking about it, he stretched his head upwards in a move to brush his muzzle against the other’s, daring to try and rasp his tongue against the bone white fur that grew there before he reclined back into the soft earth below him.

he regarded the other male in quiet, fond affection and patiently awaited leannan to respond, react, or give any indication as to why he had approached when he had never done so before.