what belongs to me

For three months after that night, Silas was in heaven.

He had exactly what he had wanted for seven long years: Eliot, completely his. Every day, every hour, every minute. Eliot spent almost all his time glued to Silas’ side, soft and sweet and eager to please, happy to let Silas wrap him up, carry him around, and remind him over and over again exactly who he belonged to. Silas had never felt so satisfied, so complete, so utterly in control. He had spent years clearing away anyone who might take Eliot from him, and now that he finally had him, he thought his biggest worries were over.

He was wrong.

It started slowly, almost quietly, creeping in like a shadow Silas should have seen coming but didn’t—too blinded by his own victory.

His name was Liam Carter. A classmate of Eliot’s, someone Eliot had tutored once six months ago, someone Eliot had always spoken of as “such a nice guy, really smart, we get along so well.” Silas had met him a handful of times before, never paying him much mind—just another ordinary boy, average height, friendly smile, nothing special. Nothing that could ever possibly compete with him.

Or so he thought.

Suddenly, Liam was everywhere.

He started showing up at their university building whenever Eliot finished class. He started walking home with him. He started texting Eliot at all hours of the day—messages popping up on Eliot’s phone constantly while they ate dinner, while they studied, while they were curled up together on the couch. And Eliot, sweet, oblivious, kind-hearted Eliot, who saw the best in everyone and would never suspect anyone of having bad intentions? He was thrilled.

“Liam’s so funny, you have no idea,” Eliot would say, laughing softly as he typed back a reply, his cheeks pink and happy. “He got stuck on that coding problem I told you about—god, he tries so hard. We’re going to the library tomorrow afternoon to work on it together, okay? I won’t be late, I promise.”

He said it like it was nothing. Like it was normal. Like it didn’t feel like someone was reaching right into Silas’ chest and tearing his heart out piece by piece.

Silas would just nod, forcing a tight, cold smile, his hands clenched into fists under the table until his knuckles turned white. “Sure, baby. Whatever you want.”

But inside, he was burning. Raging. A dark, possessive, terrifying anger that he hadn’t felt in years was bubbling up in his veins, hotter and sharper than anything he had ever known.

Because Silas saw things that Eliot didn’t.

Eliot saw a friend. Someone nice, someone who liked the same things he did, someone easy to talk to. But Silas? Silas saw the way Liam looked at Eliot when he thought no one was watching. He saw the way his eyes followed Eliot’s every movement, hungry and admiring and longing, exactly the way Silas used to look at him. He saw the way Liam found every excuse to touch him—brushing a strand of hair off his face, resting a hand on his arm, his shoulder, his back, lingering just a little too long, just a little too familiarly.

He saw the truth written all over that boy’s face, clear as day: Liam Carter was in love with Eliot. He wanted him. He wanted to take what belonged to Silas.

And the worst part? Eliot had absolutely no clue.

If anything, he encouraged it. Because he was kind. Because he was naive. Because he didn’t understand that people didn’t just want to be his friend. He didn’t understand that every person who got close to him was a threat, a rival, someone who wanted to steal him away, someone who thought they could take Silas’ place.

The first time Silas truly snapped was on a Friday afternoon.

He had finished basketball practice early and decided to pick Eliot up from the library, planning to surprise him, wrap him up in his arms, and drag him home to spend the rest of the evening tangled in bedsheets. He walked through the big glass doors, scanning the room until he spotted them, sitting together at a table near the back.

And what he saw made his blood turn to ice.

Eliot was laughing—really laughing, head tilted back, eyes crinkled, that bright, happy sound Silas usually only got to hear—leaning slightly towards Liam across the table. And Liam? He was leaning in too, his face close to Eliot’s, his hand resting right on Eliot’s forearm, his thumb brushing slowly back and forth over the soft skin, his eyes fixed on Eliot’s face with that same burning, worshipful, desperate look.

Like he owned him. Like he had any right to touch him.

Silas stood there for a full ten seconds, his whole body going rigid, his vision turning red at the edges. The air around him felt suddenly too thin, too hot. A violent, dark urge surged through him—to march over there, to rip Liam’s hand off Eliot’s arm, to slam his face into the table until he understood exactly what happens to people who try to take what is mine.

He didn’t. Not then. But it took every single ounce of self-control he had built up over years not to.

Instead, he stalked over to their table, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, his expression completely blank, terrifyingly calm.

Eliot looked up first, his face lighting up instantly when he saw Silas—thank god, at least he still reacted to Silas like that—pulling his arm away from Liam automatically without even thinking. “Silas! Hey, you’re done early! Look, Liam was just helping me with—”

Silas didn’t even look at him. His eyes were fixed entirely on Liam, staring him down with a cold, lethal intensity that made the other boy flinch visibly in his seat. It was the same look he used to give people in high school when they dared to tease or touch his best friend—sharp, threatening, a silent promise of violence.

“Liam,” Silas said, his voice low, smooth, and completely devoid of warmth. “I didn’t realize you were spending so much time with my boyfriend lately.”

He emphasized the word my, slow and deliberate, like a warning shot.

Liam swallowed hard, his smile faltering. He knew who Silas was—popular, strong, intimidating Silas Hale, the guy everyone was scared to cross. But he didn’t back down completely. He just smiled that fake, friendly smile, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, yeah, Eliot’s great company,” Liam said, his voice a little too casual. “We get along really well. He’s such an easy person to be around, isn’t he?”

Silas felt the anger spike again, sharp and painful. He’s such an easy person to be around. Like Eliot was some toy anyone could pick up and play with. Like Liam deserved even a second of his time.

Silas finally turned his gaze to Eliot, reaching down to curl his big hand possessively around the back of Eliot’s neck, his fingers pressing firmly into the soft skin, claiming him right there in front of the other boy. Eliot leaned into the touch immediately, as he always did, completely unaware of the war raging right next to him.

“He is,” Silas agreed, his voice dropping even lower, heavy with dark meaning. “That’s why I keep him all to myself most of the time. I don’t like sharing. Not even a little bit.”

Eliot blinked, confused, looking between the two of them. “Share? Silas, we’re just studying, it’s fine—”

“It’s time to go home,” Silas cut him off, standing up straight and pulling Eliot easily to his feet, wrapping his arm tight around Eliot’s waist, pressing him flush against his side. He glared at Liam one last time, his eyes burning with open hostility, a clear message: He is mine. Touch him again, look at him again, and you will regret it.

Liam just watched them go, his jaw tight. He understood. He knew he was fighting a losing battle against Silas Hale. But Silas also saw it in his eyes, as he looked at Eliot’s retreating back: he wasn’t going to give up.

That night, the jealousy and obsession that had been building up for weeks finally exploded.

As soon as they got back to their apartment, Silas slammed the door shut behind them, locked it, and pushed Eliot back against the wall hard enough to make him gasp. Before Eliot could even ask what was wrong, Silas was on him—kissing him fiercely, roughly, biting at his lip, his jaw, his neck, hard enough to leave marks, his hands roaming over Eliot’s body like he was checking that nothing had been taken, that no part of him had been given away to anyone else.

“Silas—Silas, wait—what’s wrong?” Eliot gasped, confused and breathless, his hands clutching at Silas’ shoulders. “Why are you acting like this? Did something happen?”

Silas pulled back just enough to look at him, his chest heaving, his dark eyes wild, raw, filled with a terrifying intensity Eliot had rarely seen before. He looked half-mad with it—jealousy, fear, possession, all twisted together into something dark and overwhelming.

“What’s wrong?” Silas repeated, his voice rough and sharp, almost a snarl. “You really have to ask? You really don’t see it, do you? You really are that stupid, my sweet, oblivious boy.”

Eliot flinched, hurt. “I’m not stupid! I just—”

“He wants you, Eliot!” Silas shouted, the words bursting out of him, loud and furious. “Liam Carter is in love with you! He wants you! He wants to touch you, he wants to have you, he wants to take you away from me! And you just let him! You smile at him, you laugh with him, you spend hours alone with him, you let him touch you like he has any right to—”

Eliot stared at him, his mouth falling open, his face draining of all color. “What? No… no, that’s crazy. Liam’s just a friend. He doesn’t… I mean, he never said anything—”

“Of course he didn’t say anything!” Silas snapped, grabbing Eliot’s face in both his hands, holding him still so he couldn’t look away. “Because he knows you’re mine! He knows you belong to me! But that doesn’t stop him from wanting you. It doesn’t stop him from looking at you like you’re something to steal! I see it, Eliot! I see everything! I see the way he watches you. I see the way he craves you. He’s been planning this for months, worming his way into your life, pretending to be nice, pretending to be harmless, just so he could get close enough to try and take you for himself!”

Eliot shook his head, still disbelieving, but the doubt was starting to creep in now. “No… you’re wrong. You’re just… you’re just being jealous, Silas. Liam’s a good person. He would never—”

“I am jealous!” Silas roared, pressing his body hard against Eliot’s, trapping him completely against the wall. “You’re damn right I’m jealous! I am insane with it! Do you think I spent seven years loving you, waiting for you, fighting for you, just to let some random little nobody waltz in and try to take you away from me? You are mine, Eliot. Mine. Every part of you. Your heart, your body, your time, your attention. No one else gets to have any of it. No one! I will kill anyone who tries to take you from me. I swear it. I will destroy them before I ever let them even think about touching what belongs to me.”

He was breathing hard, his eyes wild, his face twisted with that dark, obsessive passion that ran so deep it would never go away. Eliot stared at him, and for the first time, he didn’t just see his loving boyfriend. He saw the possessive, dangerous man Silas really was—the man who had scared away every person who ever liked him for years, the man who loved him so much it bordered on madness.

And the craziest thing? It didn’t scare him. It made his heart race. It made him feel cherished, wanted, loved more than anything else in the world.

“Silas…” he whispered softly, reaching up to touch Silas’ flushed cheek. “I didn’t know. I really didn’t. I promise. I never wanted to make you upset. I just… I thought he was just a friend. I didn’t realize…”

“Of course you didn’t,” Silas muttered, his voice softening just a little, but the anger and fear still burning bright in his eyes. “Because you’re too good. Too kind. Too blind to how much everyone wants you. But I’m not blind. I see everything. And I am not letting him anywhere near you again.”

From that day on, the war was on.

Silas declared open, ruthless rivalry against Liam Carter. He made it his absolute mission to destroy any chance Liam had of getting close to Eliot again, and he did it with all the skill and power he possessed.

He started by isolating Eliot—not cruelly, not enough that Eliot would notice or complain, but carefully, deliberately. He started picking Eliot up from every single class, every tutoring session, every club meeting, waiting right outside the door with that big, intimidating frame, that cold, unsmiling expression, daring anyone to come near him. He started filling up every single second of Eliot’s free time—“Let’s go to dinner,” “Let’s go to the gym,” “Let’s stay home and study together, baby, just us,”—so there was never a spare minute for Liam to slip in.

Whenever Liam did manage to approach them—smiling, friendly, trying to start a conversation or invite Eliot somewhere—Silas was right there immediately, stepping between them, blocking Liam from Eliot like a human shield, answering for Eliot in that cold, dismissive voice, shooting Liam looks so full of hatred and threat that other people around them would flinch.

“He’s busy,” Silas would say, short and sharp, his arm already slung tight around Eliot’s waist or shoulders, pulling him close, pressing kisses to his forehead, his cheek, right in front of Liam, marking him openly. “We have plans. Go find someone else to bother.”

And Eliot, bless his heart, finally starting to understand? He went along with it happily. Because once Silas told him the truth, once the idea settled in his mind, he started seeing it too. He saw the way Liam looked at him. He saw the way Liam tried to find excuses to touch him, to be alone with him. And suddenly, it didn’t feel nice anymore. It felt uncomfortable. It felt wrong. Because Liam wasn’t Silas. No one was Silas.

He started pulling away on his own. He started turning down invitations. He started replying to Liam’s texts with short, polite answers, or not replying at all. But even that wasn’t enough for Silas.

Silas wanted more. He wanted Liam gone. He wanted Liam to understand, completely and forever, that he never stood a chance.

A week later, Silas finally confronted him properly.

He cornered Liam in the empty parking lot after university, late in the afternoon, when everyone else had already gone home. Silas stood there, towering over the smaller boy, his hands in his pockets, his expression calm, cold, and utterly terrifying. Liam froze when he saw him, his face paling, realizing exactly why he had been followed.

“You,” Silas said, his voice low and deadly quiet, no longer pretending to be polite. “You need to stay away from Eliot. Completely. Forever. Do you understand me?”

Liam lifted his chin, trying to look brave, though his hands were shaking at his sides. “He’s my friend. I can talk to whoever I want. And anyway—what are you so scared of, Silas? If he really loves you so much, you wouldn’t be worried about me, would you? Maybe… maybe you know deep down that he could be happier with someone else. Someone who doesn’t treat him like property.”

Silas laughed. It was a harsh, cold, mocking sound, entirely without humor. He stepped closer, crowding Liam back against the wall of the building, looming over him, his presence suffocating.

“Scared?” Silas repeated, leaning down until his face was inches from Liam’s, his eyes burning with pure, unadulterated hatred. “Oh, I’m terrified. Terrified that I’ll lose control and hurt you before you even get the chance to realize how much of a mistake you’re making. You think you could make him happy? You? You ordinary, boring little boy? You think you could ever give him what I give him? You think he would ever look at you the way he looks at me?”

He paused, his voice dropping lower, darker, dripping with arrogant certainty.

“Let me tell you something. You and everyone else like you? You are nothing. You are dust beneath my feet. Eliot Hayes is mine. He loves me. He wants me. He belongs to me. I shaped him. I made him exactly how I wanted him. Soft, sweet, eager, completely mine. You never had a chance. You never will have a chance. And if you ever try to talk to him, touch him, look at him, or even think about him again? I will make your life a living hell. I will ruin your grades, your reputation, everything you care about. Do not test me. You have no idea what I am capable of when it comes to protecting what is mine.”

Liam stared at him, pale and shaken, realizing suddenly that Silas wasn’t bluffing. That he really was that obsessed. That he really was dangerous.

“Get out of my sight,” Silas spat, stepping back and gesturing sharply towards the road. “And don’t ever let me catch you near him again.”

Liam left that day, and he didn’t come back. He stopped texting Eliot. He stopped showing up. He stopped looking for him. He finally accepted defeat, completely crushed by the reality that he could never compete with Silas Hale’s obsessive, all-consuming love.

But even with Liam gone, Silas’ jealousy didn’t fade. If anything, it got worse.

Because now Silas knew the truth: there would always be someone else. Someone else who would see how wonderful Eliot was. Someone else who would want him. Someone else who would try to take him away. And Silas would always be ready. Always watching. Always guarding what belonged to him, with every ounce of strength and darkness he possessed.

That night, when he came home, Eliot was waiting for him, soft and sweet, smiling happily as he wrapped his arms around Silas’ neck.

“Liam hasn’t messaged me all day,” Eliot said, pressing a kiss to Silas’ cheek. “I think… I think he finally got the message. It’s okay, Silas. You were right. I only want you. I don’t need anyone else.”

Silas pulled him tight against his chest, burying his face in Eliot’s neck, breathing him in, his arms wrapping around him like iron bands, locking him in place. His Eliot. His beautiful, perfect, naive boy. Safe again. His and only his.

“Good,” Silas murmured, his voice rough and possessive, his hands already wandering, pulling Eliot closer, already hungry, already needing to remind himself, remind Eliot, remind the whole world exactly who he belonged to. “Good. Because you are never leaving my sight again. You are never belonging to anyone else. I will fight every single person in this whole world if I have to. I will burn everything down. Just to keep you mine.”

And as he carried Eliot to the bed, laying him down and claiming him again, rough and passionate and possessive, marking his skin over and over again with dark, visible bruises and kisses—proof for anyone who dared to look—Silas smiled.

Let them come. Let them try. He would destroy every single one of them.

Eliot was his. Forever.

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