The door to the penthouse opened with a heavy click. Silas stepped inside, his presence filling the space like a storm cloud.

He loosened his tie as he walked into the living room, where Sylvain was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the floor.

Sylvain looked up immediately, his face already pale with anxiety. He had been waiting for hours, dread building with every passing minute. His eyes were dull, red-rimmed from earlier tears, and his posture was slumped, as if the burden of the world had finally crushed him.

Silas didn’t greet him. He simply poured himself a glass of whiskey, took a slow sip, and finally spoke. "I’m home."

Sylvain didn’t respond at first. He slowly lifted his head, his movements mechanical, like a puppet with cut strings. His voice came out flat, almost lifeless. "Welcome back."

Silas walked over and stopped in front of him. He reached down and tilted Sylvain’s chin up with two fingers, forcing their eyes to meet. "You’ve been sitting here the whole time?"

Sylvain blinked slowly, as if even that small movement required tremendous effort. "Yes."

Silas searched his face, noting the emptiness in his eyes. "You look numb. Did you eat anything while I was gone?"

Sylvain shook his head slightly. "No. I wasn’t hungry."

Silas’s thumb brushed over Sylvain’s lower lip. "You need to eat. I won’t have you wasting away on me. Go to the kitchen. There’s food in the fridge. Heat something up now."

Sylvain stood up without protest, moving like a ghost toward the kitchen. Silas followed closely, watching every step.

Sylvain mechanically opened the fridge, took out a container of pasta, and placed it in the microwave. The beep of the appliance and the low hum of it running filled the heavy silence between them.

While the food heated, Silas leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Diane called earlier. My mother forced a dinner on me tonight."

Sylvain didn’t react much. He simply stared at the microwave as it counted down. "Did you enjoy it?"

Silas let out a low, humorless chuckle. "It was tolerable. She talked a lot about her films, her travels, her ambition. She is a good representative of a chatterbox. My mother is pushing hard for marriage this time."

Sylvain’s hands gripped the edge of the counter a little tighter. His voice remained flat, almost lifeless. "Are you going to marry her?"

Silas stepped closer, pressing himself against Sylvain’s back. He wrapped one arm around his waist, holding him firmly in place. "No. I have no interest in her. She’s a distraction my mother thinks I need. But I already have exactly what I want right here."

Sylvain didn’t pull away. He simply stood there, letting Silas hold him. "Okay."

The microwave beeped. Sylvain took the food out, placed it on a plate, and began eating slowly at the kitchen island. Silas watched him the entire time, noting how mechanical every movement was — fork to mouth, chew, swallow. No enjoyment. No resistance, only numb compliance.

After a few bites, Sylvain spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Silas..."

"Yes?"

Sylvain kept his eyes fixed on the plate. "I want to visit my brother for a little while. I need to see him please."

Silas was quiet for a moment, studying the numb man in front of him. Then he stepped closer again, resting a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder.

"You want to see Leon?" he asked, voice low and measured.

Sylvain nodded slowly. "Yes. After what you told him... I need to talk to him. To explain everything and to make sure he’s okay. Please, Silas. I’ll come back right after. I won’t do anything stupid. I just... I need to see him. I need to know he’s still breathing."

Silas’s fingers tightened slightly on Sylvain’s shoulder. "You understand that if you say anything that displeases me, I will know and I will make both of you regret it. Don’t even think of trying to run away with him."

"I understand," Sylvain whispered, his voice cracking. "I won’t say anything about... us. I’ll just check on him. Make sure he’s eating. Make sure he’s not... completely hurt. I promise. Please, Silas. He’s my little brother. He’s all I have left in this world."

Silas was silent for a long moment, his hand still resting possessively on Sylvain’s shoulder. Then he finally nodded. "Fine. You can visit him tomorrow afternoon. My driver will take you and wait outside. You will have few hours, no more no less. And when you return, you will tell me everything that is said between you two. Every single word. Do you understand?"

Sylvain’s shoulders sagged with visible relief, though his eyes remained empty and hollow. "Thank you. Thank you, Silas. I’ll tell you everything. I promise."

Silas turned him around gently and pulled him into his arms. He kissed the top of Sylvain’s head, then tilted his chin up for a deeper kiss — possessive, claiming, but not cruel tonight.

"You’re mine," Silas murmured against his lips. "Even when you go see him. Remember that. Every breath you take, every word you speak to him — you do it because I allow it."

Sylvain nodded weakly, his voice barely audible. "I remember. I’m yours."

Silas held him for a while longer, running a hand up and down his back in slow, possessive strokes. "Finish your food. Then go shower. You’re staying in my room tonight. I want you close."

Sylvain obeyed without protest. He ate the rest of the pasta in silence, each bite mechanical. When he was done, he disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water filled the penthouse for a long time.

When he emerged, clean and dressed in soft clothes, Silas was already waiting in the master bedroom, shirt unbuttoned, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Come here," Silas said.

Sylvain walked over and climbed into bed beside him. Silas pulled him close immediately, wrapping strong arms around his waist and pressing him against his chest.

"Sleep," Silas ordered softly, his breath warm against Sylvain’s hair. "Tomorrow you’ll see your brother, be at rest."

Sylvain closed his eyes, fresh tears slipping silently down his cheeks as he lay there, numb and broken in the arms of the man who owned him completely. His mind was a storm of guilt, fear, and exhaustion, but he had no fight left.

He could only hope that when he saw Leon tomorrow, there would still be something left of the brother he loved.