Disclaimer : Shaman King is not mine. If it was, I assure you that many character's lives would bea lot easier.
He always loved to watch the boy sleep. Why, he did not know. Did not care. Those bright, vibrant eyes were closed, occasionally moving beneath their lids during a dream, the child's breathing soft and steady. He wondered if when he himself was a child, did he sleep like that? Fingering the marks on his throat, the brand of the devil from eight generations ago, he set his own breathing in matchingrhythm to the boy's pace.
He did not like to sleep himself. When he was asleep, the nightmares came. Taunts of how his life could have been if only a little thing was changed. What if he had never met Eliza? What if he had been at home and been able to stop the burglar? What if he had descended into madness before she had died? What if he had decided to end it all when she had? He did not like those 'what if?' thoughts. They hounded him day and night, but when he was occupied with something else, their chorus dulled to a low murmur. That was why he watched the boy sleep. It took his mind off of all those thoughts.
He repented for his actions on their first meeting. This child, this... Angel, though he had done nothing wrong, was a victim. He had tried to hurt him. Kill him, even. He had resolved never to even think about performing such an act again. The boy had become to precious to him. He had become his last lifeline for sanity.
At the door, Eliza stood sentry, watching for any potential trespasser who would disturb his little angel's dream. His angel. He liked how it sounded, and mouthed the words to himself. Of course he still loved his dear Eliza. She was his, he still was hers. But Eliza was dead. The tenacity of the Asakura boy was startling, even for him, and he was doubtful that he could make it to be Shaman King, and this troubled him. There was now a serious obstacle to reviving his Eliza. And then there was Hao. Hao's spirit. That fire demon could swallow his beloved wife whole, and that was a threat he dared not to consider. It was a very real danger. Yet he was a bit glad he entered this tournament. If he hadn't, he'd have never met his angel.
He stiffened as the boy's breathing rhythm changed, biting his lower lip in nervousness that he'd be discovered. The child never knew he was watched, and if he was discovered, then most likely his sweet little angel would be too afraid of him to let him near. And he knew, all too well, that he couldn't remain without watching him. This child was his last hold onto sanity, after all. Without him he would slip away.
Faust relaxed as Manta unconsciously yawned and turned over onto his side, settling under the comforter in a quiet little dream. He was safe.