Thank you asherisawkward and oxblooddraws for beta reading and giving me feedback : ). Thank you conejo-sama for fixing the chapter's grammar issues : ), i know it was a long chapter for you three hahaha, but I totally appreciate it 3
Chapter 31
When Silas was a mere eight years old, he dared his cousin and friends to leap from the pinnacle of the waterfall near his home. Of course, everyone considered it a terrible idea and felt horrified to even look down from the small cliff. Silas's cousin, Thomas, who was over a year older than him, urged him to be the first to plunge, challenging him to prove himself as the bravest of them all.
Now, Silas was as nervous as the rest of the kids. He wasn't sure if he would end up getting severely injured if he jumped off, but he couldn't allow the group to deem him a coward.
So, Silas launched himself off the cliff, hurtling through the cascading waters and into the river below. Oh, how his tiny heart almost escaped his chest while he descended. However, the sheer exhilaration he experienced from emerging from the river unscathed was unparalleled. He laughed with joy when his head poked out of the water, and eventually a few of the children, including Thomas, mustered the courage to follow suit.
The entire experience seemed too perfect until George, in his misguided descent, ended up fracturing his leg. The exact details of the incident after that remained somewhat hazy in Silas's memory, yet he recalled it as one of the last instances he felt such nervousness and the day George was not allowed to talk to him again.
So, as Silas made his way with Philip by the river that evening, as they agreed – though it was more of a directive from Philip – he couldn't fathom why a sense of anxiety crept over him. Perhaps it was from the fear that Philip may somehow try to murder him and dispose his lifeless body into the river. The thought wasn't too ridiculous, since it sounded like the best revenge plot that someone would have after they were thrown into the river. Also, the two shovels that Philip was carrying made him look suspicious.
"Take this one," Philip said after thrusting one shovel into Silas's hands.
Great, was Philip making him dig his own grave?
Silas gazed down at the shovel then glanced back up at Philip, who pulled out a journal and jotted down something before tucking it away. Philip started to dig beside the river. After doing it for a minute alone, he turned to Silas with a frown.
"Don't just stand there. Come here and start digging too," Philip said.
Silas stared at him, frowning.
"Philip, what exactly are we doing here…?" Silas narrowed his eyes, feeling the suspicion he had for Philip grow.
Philip rolled his eyes, forcefully plunging the shovel into the ground and flinging the displaced earth aside.
"We are in search of a substance," Philip explained. "A peculiar blue liquid, to be precise."
"What?" Silas blinked, confused.
"I am aware it sounds rather strange, but there may be a bluish fluid somewhere along the river that I happen to require," Philip clarified.
Silas rubbed the corner of his eyes, struggling to comprehend Philip. He was starting to ask himself how the Minister had chosen Philip as an apprentice when he appeared so unhinged. A blue liquid? Was Philip being serious or was he attempting to deceive Silas into digging his own grave like he had previously believed? After all, there was no such thing as a blue liquid hiding by the river.
Or was there…?
Silas observed Philip diligently excavating the earth and eventually decided to join in. He didn't have anything better to do that day, anyway.
But curiosity gnawed at Silas, prompting to break the silence after twenty minutes. "So… why are you looking for this blue liquid?" he asked.
Philip's brows furrowed and his lips remained sealed. Clearly, Philip relished at maintaining an image of mystery. Meanwhile, Silas was great at asking questions. Well, it wasn't as if Silas needed to know every single detail of every matter at hand. He wasn't like his parents, after all. But the situation he was in wasn't one to walk into blindly.
"I have never heard of a blue liquid hidden by the river," Silas mumbled, but clear enough for Philip to hear.
"Do you always talk this much?" Philip retorted, sounding visibly irritated.
"Well, my apologies for wanting to know exactly what I'm getting myself into here," Silas responded with a hint of sarcasm.
"All you need to know is that I'm searching for a blue liquid, nothing more," Philip responded dismissively. "You needn't concern yourself with the finer details."
Silas persisted, though. "I can't help but feel I should since I'm here helping you."
"You're only lending a hand because you're getting something in return," Philip retorted matter-of-factly.
Silas rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, you're supposedly teaching me how to read and write."
Philip ceased his shoveling, casting a disapproving glance at Silas. "Supposedly? What exactly are you implying?" he inquired, sounding slightly offended.
"What I'm saying is I doubt I'll actually learn how to do either of those things," Silas clarified. "But that's perfectly fine. Don't worry about it. Maybe we can find something else to make the deal worthwhile for me," he suggested.
Philip stared at him with annoyance but said nothing more as they continued to dig along the river, both in silence.
Silas made his way back into the forest, meeting Philip as agreed on the second day. Throughout the morning, he thought about what he could request in return for aiding Philip on his secret mission. He had a couple of ideas in mind, including having Philip help with some chores and savoring the sight of Philip struggling with them.
Eventually, Silas reached the previous digging site. He spotted Philip seated by a tree, engrossed in a journal. He also noticed there were no shovels in sight.
"Come here, Silas," Philip beckoned without looking up.
Silas frowned but obeyed, taking a seat beside Philip, who handed him a different journal and a writing utensil. Perplexed, Silas stared at the empty page before him.
"Alright, today marks our first lesson," Philip commenced, edging closer to Silas while maintaining a respectful distance. "We will focus on vowels, and you will write them as you pronounce them aloud."
"Hold on… what?" Silas furrowed his brow.
"Silas, I require you to pay attention to what I say." Philip frowned. "I am not fond of repeating myself."
"And yesterday, I clearly told you not to bother with teaching me to read and write," Silas sighed, turning to face Philip, who wore a disinterested expression that grated on him.
"Let's begin with the letter 'a'," Philip declared, flipping to some pages in his own journal before proceeding to write the first vowel, disregarding Silas's previous remark.
Silas gazed at him, momentarily irritated by Philip not taking him seriously.
"Stop scrutinizing me like a fool and copy what I'm doing," Philip reprimanded him impatiently.
"Don't make me toss you into the river again," Silas retorted.
"And you quit wasting my time," Philip shot back. "I dedicated this morning to devising a lecture plan for the upcoming week, and instead of showing gratitude, you behave like the unruly child you used to be. I spoke with Master Standish, who informed me of your minimal attendance, your terrible tendency to doze off and your refusal to do any of the schoolwork. I refuse to let you get away with that again as long as I'm mentoring you."
Silas wanted to defend himself, to argue back, but truth be told, Philip was right. Silas used to prefer spending time with friends or cousins outside rather than attending school. He had no interest in completing schoolwork, especially since it was always so hard to pick up, a matter his father dismissed without a care. His father often remarked that since Silas would oversee their lands, there was no need to waste time learning to read and write.
"Well… school was dull," Silas weakly argued.
Philip rolled his eyes. "For some, perhaps, but that doesn't diminish its importance," he stated. "We all encounter tasks we dislike."
Silas felt an urge to scoff at Philip's words. As if Philip was ever forced to do anything he didn't desire. After all, the young man was the Minister's favorite.
"And maybe having someone solely focusing on your studies will help you learn," Philip said. "Now, what are you waiting for? Write the letter 'a'."
Silas could simply get up and walk off, but for some reason, when their knees brushed a bit, he couldn't help but feel the warmth in his stomach that made him stay and do what Philip said.
Now, of course he didn't hold himself back from grumbling about how frustrating it was he had to start from scratch. For crying out loud, he knew how to write the vowels…
Silas had lost track of the number of days he had been meeting up with Philip. They would shift days digging by the river and having lessons. Initially, Silas dreaded the days when Philip taught him, preferring to focus on digging instead. It allowed him to escape Philip's lectures and let time pass without much thought. However, as time went on, Silas was surprised to find that he had memorized the whole alphabet and could slowly sound out short words.
"Ca…cat," Silas said aloud, struggling a bit, but a smile formed on his face.
"Good," Philip said, pointing to another word he had written for Silas to read for the day. "Now, the next one."
Silas furrowed his brow. "W…e…t?"
Philip nodded calmly, pointing to the first word again. "This one again."
"Cat." Silas blinked, then repeated, "Cat." Suddenly, he couldn't help but snicker.
"What's so funny?" Philip asked, completely perplexed.
"You know, that time I threw you into the river, you looked like a wet cat," Silas pointed out, finding amusement in the memory.
Immediately, Philip glared at him. "I did not."
"Oh, you definitely did. Especially with your hair clinging to you like it did."
A shade of red spread across Philip's face, revealing his embarrassment. "Silas, I don't appreciate you mocking me, especially when I'm your current teacher and superior. So, stop with your jokes this instant."
Silas rolled his eyes. Philip was truly no fun. His gaze unintentionally drifted towards Philip's hair, always so smooth and soft-looking. It was rare to see long hair since it was typically worn by women who kept it covered. Silas couldn't help but wonder how soft a woman's long hair would feel. Was it as soft as a horse's mane?
"What are you looking at?" Philip asked in a bored tone, snapping Silas back to reality.
"Can I touch your hair?" Silas blurted out, catching them both off guard. Philip probably didn't expect such a request, and Silas found himself shocked he would even ask such a thing. But at the same time, the way Philip looked at him, wide-eyed and dumbfounded, with eyebrows raised up, stirred something in Silas's chest.
The two stared at each other in silence before Philip slowly regained his composure, his expression turning into a frown.
"Pardon me?" Philip inquired.
"I just wanted to see if your hair is as soft as a horse's," Silas said, now fully convinced he had gone mad. Perhaps he should do everyone a favor and throw himself into the river.
Philip continued to gaze at him, and the lack of response gradually made Silas anxious. Anxious because maybe Philip would cease their agreement and keep his distance, which would upset Silas since he was finally learning to read.
Just as Silas expected Philip to gather his belongings and leave, he spoke. "I suppose I would be curious about that as well if I didn't have long hair," he admitted.
Silas blinked, surprised when Philip set his things aside and slowly turned his back toward Silas.
"Just make sure your hands aren't covered in mud or anything," Philip curtly instructed.
Silas felt a soft clench in his stomach, almost reminiscent of the day he held onto Philip that other day back in his land.
"Of course," he replied, hastily wiping his hands on his pants, just in case. He reached out to place his hand on the end of Philip's hair and slowly moved his hand up to feel the silky strands more.
Indeed, it was quite soft… softer than Obedience's strands…
His finger brushed against the hair tie that held Philip's hair together.
"Um… may I…?" Silas stumbled on his words for some reason as he tugged at the restraint slightly.
Philip didn't respond, and Silas shifted slightly to catch a glimpse of Philip's confused expression, as if he was trying to make sense of something. There was also a hint of pink on Philip's cheeks, though not as intense as when he was angry earlier.
"Go ahead…" Philip mumbled, his eyes glancing to the side, avoiding direct eye contact with Silas.
Silas's own face felt a surge of warmth, attributing it to the relentless heat that had plagued their days. With a delicate motion, he carefully pulled down the hair tie that secured Philip's locks. As the tie slipped away, his eyes beheld the gentle waves and the smooth shine that adorned Philip's hair. The way the strands danced in the air beckoned him to touch them.
Silas found himself utterly captivated, entranced by the silken tenderness beneath his fingertips. Softness enveloped his senses, embracing his touch like a delicate caress. Every stroke, every soft movement of his hand through Philip's hair, amplified the warmth that he felt in his stomach and chest.
Time seemed to stop in that moment, as Silas lost himself as his gaze lingered on Philip's locks. In some strange way, he felt this was a moment they should keep to themselves, that no one should know about.
But then Philip pulled away, ending the connection he felt they were starting to have. The silence hung heavy between them, and Silas felt his heart twist and turn, waiting for Philip to do or say something.
Finally, Philip turned to face Silas, his eyes reflecting a hint of awkwardness that danced in his gaze. He hesitated for a moment, something Silas hadn't expected, before cautiously asking, "Is it…. softer than a horse's…?"
Silas's voice caught in his throat, feeling the warmth in his stomach bloom into his chest. He offered a gentle nod, unsure he could speak without sounding like a fool, especially by how Philip's hair laid freely around his shoulders, the way the tendrils framed Philip's face, giving Philip a softer look to him, both tender and vulnerable, making him look…
A smile at the corners of his lips, Silas finally found his voice as he gently spoke, "You should keep your hair down more often."
Philip regarded Silas, his eyes holding the earlier confusion they carried before the pink shade came back across his face, and he quickly looked away.
"We should… return to the lesson," Philip murmured, gathering his journal and writing instrument. He positioned himself beside Silas and wrote another couple of words for Silas to read. And so, they resumed their lesson, but this time with Philip's hair down and Silas stealing glances at the softness of Philip's hair as they danced with each movement he made.
"You can draw?" Philip asked Silas during their well-deserved break.
After a month of lessons, Silas had progressed to the point where he could make out simple sentences now. He had spent the last hour engrossed in reading before Philip suggested a pause to allow him to write longer sentences for Silas to practice. In the meantime, Silas had taken to sketching a drawing of a poised wolf preparing to pounce in a corner of his journal, which he had been using to practice sentence structures that Philip had taught him just a week ago.
"I suppose I can, somewhat," Silas replied, his gaze shifting from his simple sketch to Philip, who now consistently wore his hair down whenever they met. "But I'm not that great at it."
Philip regarded him with half-lidded eyes, his gaze filled with aloofness. "Don't be so modest," he said, taking a bite of his hardtack snack Silas had brought along. "You possess a talent for drawing."
Silas blinked. "Oh wow, a compliment from Philip Wittebane. Are you sure you didn't hit your head before you came here?" he joked, making Philip snort.
"I am simply telling you the truth," Philip said with a shrug. "And I must admit, it seems I was wrong about you."
"Wrong about me?" Silas asked with confusion. "About what?"
Philip paused for a moment, looking to the side. "It seems you're not a simpleton after all," he pointed out simply.
Silas was surprised to hear Philip's words, and the warmth grazed his insides every so tenderly.
Truth be told, he always enjoyed drawing, but his father would shame him for it, for wasting his time on something 'useless', even though a couple of his friends, when they were younger, had thought he was extremely talented.
He smiled before he reached out to Philip and affectionately ruffled Philip's hair. It was a tender gesture in his part that he couldn't help but do. It just felt right. Especially when Philip swatted his hands away and whined that his hair was now messed up, but with one of those rare, amused smiles making its way on his lips.
"I simply cannot understand why we cannot locate it!" Silas remained silent as Philip's composure shattered on that particular day. Despite five weeks of digging holes along the river, Silas was surprised that they had not given up the search for the supposed blue liquid that he still didn't believe existed.
With his left hand encased in a wooden splint again, Philip tightly held his shovel with his right hand and ruthlessly stabbed at the freshly excavated ground, his features contorting in frustration.
"Philip, I think we should-" Silas began, but Philip cut him off.
"I don't want to hear it, Silas," Philip snapped, his glare piercing Silas like daggers. The tears gathering in the corners of Philip's eyes froze Silas in place, his heart aching at the sight, especially when he saw the dark bags that hung under Philip's eyes that day.
Silas watched helplessly as Philip's lower lip trembled before he averted his gaze. "We have been at this for weeks, yet we have not come across any at all," Philip hissed before plunging the shovel into the dirt and climbing out of the hole. He wiped away his tears with his sleeve, though his frustration only seemed to intensify as he spoke. "I just don't understand. I know I saw them find some nearby." He paced frantically, his desperation visible as he ran his hands through his hair. "I swear I did… I wasn't imagining it."
Silas pulled himself from the hole and approached Philip, his voice soft and soothing. "Philip, let's take a break," he suggested, thinking maybe that's what Philip needed at that moment, especially given the challenge of digging with only one hand. "Come on, I believe you could use it." Silas placed a gentle hand on Philip's right shoulder, which was a grave mistake. Philip recoiled violently, as if anticipating a strike.
A wave of sickness washed over Silas from Philip's reaction and from the dreaded realization that, maybe, Philip's injured hand was not from an accident that Philip had claimed earlier in the day.
Silas raised both of his hands to assure him he meant no harm as Philip stared at him with a frightened, almost manic, expression, his breathing a bit faster than normal.
"My apologies," Silas offered sincerely. "I shouldn't have startled you so suddenly."
The initial fear in Philip's eyes vanished and was replaced by a look of a lost child. "I need to find that blue liquid, Silas," Philip said quietly. "I need it to save my brother."
Silas wasn't entirely sure what Philip was going on about, but he could sense it was important. Philip was willing to work himself to the bone, shed tears, and endure pain, all for the sake of finding the blue liquid. And never in his wildest dreams did Silas imagine he would witness Philip in tears, and it pained him deeply. He didn't enjoy it one bit.
Without hesitation, Silas moved closer and pulled Philip into a tight embrace. At first, Philip tensed up for a moment, but then he relaxed, his arms wrapping around Silas immediately. Silas could feel the weight of Philip's head against his shoulder, his body trembling slightly as he struggled to steady his breath.
Silas closed his eyes, and they didn't say a word as Philip continued to hold Silas as if his life depended on it. And Silas allowed it.
"And this is a ghost orchid." Philip showed Silas a page with a sketch of a flower he had never seen in his life. Silas was leaning against the trunk of a towering tree, the rough bark pressing against his back. Philip nestled comfortably against Silas's chest, their bodies fitting together as if they were pieces of a puzzle. Silas encircled Philip, providing a gentle embrace that conveyed a sense of safety and affection. The rhythmic rise and fall of Philip's breathing against Silas's chest gave him a soothing feeling that ran through his soul.
"I had to climb up a tree to take a closer look at it," Philip told him. Silas had to admit, he was surprised Philip could draw so well; the flower looked so realistic on paper. He believed Philip was better at drawing than he was, which honestly, he had no problem with.
Philip flipped to another page to reveal another flower. "This is what they call the Pink Lady's Slipper." He pointed to a delicate looking flower that resembled a slipper, just like the name implied. "The petals were pink."
As Philip continued to unveil each flower that he had found in the forest with pride, Silas couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through him. He listened intently as Philip passionately described the unique ways he had come across each flower and their colors.
They hadn't attempted to dig another hole for the past few days. Instead, Philip had just pushed Silas to read from the Bible a bit, which bored Silas. At times, Philip would show off what was written in his countless journals, which Silas preferred.
Silas had realized the past few days that Philip enjoyed talking, especially when it came to sharing knowledge from some books he had secretly gotten his hands on from other towns when he went to deliver some messages for The Minister.
"Supposedly, there is a Yellow Lady's Slipper, and I want to one day find it," Philip said. "I read that they appear in the moist areas in the forest."
"Maybe we can see if we can find it tomorrow evening?" Silas offered.
"Tomorrow I'm going to do some work for The Minister while he's out of town," Philip informed him then paused for a moment. "You should come. I have a book you can read in the meantime while I'm working."
Silas would rather be in the forest with his arms around Philip like they had been doing recently. He didn't think they were doing anything wrong, but he had a huge feeling people would scrutinize them because they were far too old, almost adults, to be holding one another the way they were, even though it felt nice…
Silas really enjoyed holding Philip. He couldn't remember the last time his parents even hugged him.
"Alright, I'll come over," Silas said. He pulled Philip closer so Philip's heartbeat would intertwine with his own and to continue to feel the warmth that he was pretty sure Philip would experience as well because he would scoot closer into his embrace.
Silas had envisioned Philip's room to be filled with exquisite artwork, fine decorative objects, and luxurious sheets adorning Philip's bed. However, the room turned out to be small and bare, with only a simple desk, a tiny bed, and a lone drawer.
As Silas entered the room, Philip closed the door behind them. Philip was wearing his hair up in a ponytail, which was alright, Silas supposed. He would rather see it down, but he had a feeling while they were outside of the forest that maybe it was better for Philip to keep his hair 'tamed'.
"Silas, you must promise not to breathe a word of this to anyone," Philip warned. Silas was confused but went ahead and promised he wouldn't tell a soul, which prompted Philip to make his way to a corner of the room. Philip knelt and retrieved a small knife that was hidden in his boot, using it to pry open a floorboard and reveal a hidden wooden box and a stack of journals.
Silas was taken aback by Philip's secret 'treasure', which made him wonder why Philp felt the need to hide such items. He observed as Philip took a journal from the hidden area.
"What's inside the box?" Silas couldn't help but ask.
Philip didn't respond, placing the floorboard back into place before standing up and handing the journal to Silas. "See if you can read the first story in there," he instructed. "It shouldn't be too challenging."
Silas opened the journal and immediately recognized Philip's delicate and legible handwriting. Meanwhile, Philip settled at his desk, retrieving parchments and a writing instrument to attend to a task assigned by the Minister, whatever that was.
Silas sat down on the edge of Philip's bed and began to read the story. Although he still had a difficult time reading, he managed to sound out the words slowly. With time, he found himself engrossed, now in the fifth page, captivated by a tale of a child befriending a bear cub and assisting her in finding her mother in the forest.
Unlike the monotonous religious books people in town typically read, this story had a unique charm to it. It was just so interesting that he could even imagine the tale in his head scene by scene.
"Did you write this?" Silas asked, stealing a glance at Philip, who had ceased writing on the parchment. He noticed Philip's shoulders tense up. "I promise I won't tell anyone, you know that, right?"
Philip remained silent for a considerable amount of time before responding with a simple, "Yes, I did."
"Well…" Silas turned to the next page. "It's rather interesting," he remarked. "Much better than those boring books they would read to us at school."
And he meant it. If his teacher had read stories like Philip's out loud, then maybe he would have paid more attention and continued going to school.
A soft chuckle escaped Philip's lips. "I agree. They were dreadfully dull," he said, making Silas smile.
"Have you ever thought about becoming an author?" Silas asked with curiosity. "I know it would mean leaving town, but I believe you could do it. You can make something of yourself compared to the rest of the people here."
"Maybe," Philip mused, tapping his writing instrument against the table. "But perhaps after I save my brother."
Silas fell silent while he observed Philip return to his task. He couldn't help but recollect the last time they were out digging holes. It seemed to Silas that Philip believed that somehow, by finding the blue liquid, he would someway rescue his brother.
The tale that Philip had shared with the village troubled Silas more, making him grow worried that perhaps Philip truly believed in such a tale to avoid accepting that his brother had simply abandoned him. And in a way, the lie was holding Philip back from moving forward in life.
"Where are you going, boy?" Silas suppressed a sigh as his father called out to him while he put on his jacket. "You've been going out to that forest for four months now," his father said, annoyed. "What are you doing out there? You better not be getting in any sort of trouble, you hear me?"
"I wouldn't dream of it," Silas replied sarcastically before he made his way out of the house.
He didn't bother telling his parents about Philip at all. The last thing he wanted was for them to nag him about how 'dangerous' Philip was.
Once he reached the river, he settled against a tree as he always did, pulling out Philip's journal so he could read one of the short stories Philip had written. Silas tended to arrive early, so sometimes he would take the time to draw something or read. The truth was, Silas enjoyed both activities now, and he had begun to entertain the idea of becoming an artist himself and leaving town alongside Philip. They could maybe become important through their artistic passions, which was better than attending the farmlands that his parents expected him to do for the rest of his life.
He didn't have to wait too long before Philip arrived, wearing his customary bored expression, even though Silas greeted him with a warm smile. Silas didn't mind Philip's demeanor; in a way, it suited him, especially with his hair down. And his chest felt warm when he was around Philip; his days always seemed to get better when he was around the other young man.
"Ready to search for that owl of yours?" Silas asked playfully.
"It's called a Northern Saw-whet Owl," Philip corrected, and of course Silas rolled his eyes with amusement as a response. Philip was always so technical.
They then ventured deeper into the forest.
They hadn't been digging many holes lately, due to the arrival of the winter's cold winds. Instead, they spent their time studying nature, something Silas found unexpectedly enjoyable, especially when Philip passionately lectured him about the various animals and plants they encountered. Philip was indeed very knowledgeable.
"I would have thought I'd come across a Northern Saw-whet owl before a Snowy owl, but these lands seem determined to make things difficult for me," Philip remarked.
Right, Philip had said he had encountered a Snowy owl a few times but somehow hadn't seen the Northern Saw-whet owl even once.
"You're just saying that," Silas replied, amused, as he crossed the icy river using a fallen trunk.
"Well, how do you explain my string of bad luck then?" Philip asked with a frown, waiting for Silas to cross before attempting it himself.
"I think you're just paranoid," Silas teased, causing Philip to snort with annoyance.
Halfway across, Philip slipped and tumbled into the frigid river. Silas's eyes widened.
"Philip!" he called out, rushing to the river's edge as Philip struggled to resurface, coughing and trembling while trying to extract himself from the icy water.
"I told you this forest sometimes hates me!" Philip snapped in frustration, his drenched hair sticking to his face and shoulders. Silas could have chuckled if it was summertime, but with the river's freezing temperature and Philip's shivering state, worry flowed through him. Extending a hand, Silas helped Philip out of the water, and they began making their way through the forest toward Silas's house. However, Philip abruptly stopped, making Silas look at him with confusion.
"No, we're not going to your place," Philip said through chattering teeth.
"Philip, we need to get you out of those wet clothes and warm you up," Silas stated, his brow furrowing. "I doubt you'd want to return to your own home."
Coughing violently into a fist for a moment, Philip cleared his throat and forcefully tugged Silas in another direction.
"I have a different place in mind," Philip said, leaving Silas puzzled. Despite the confusion, Silas didn't object and allowed Philip to guide him until they reached a hidden house nestled in the forest. Ah, Philip's former home, before his brother was 'taken' away by a witch. Silas recalled the tales that others would spread, claiming the house to be cursed, which made everyone stay away.
Of course, Silas dismissed such rumors as mere foolishness and followed Philip into the house, making their way up to one of the bedrooms.
"Alright, let's see what we have here," Silas said, pulling out from a drawer clothes that appeared to be too small – which didn't surprise him since Philip and his brother had been the only ones living in that house for years.
"Do you have any of your father's clothes?" Silas loudly asked Philip, who was in the bathroom down the hallway, removing his wet garments.
"I don't believe so," Philip called back.
Silas took a moment to ponder before he went on searching throughout the house. He entered another room and stumbled upon a storage trunk, which he opened to find bed sheets and a sleeping gown that seemed to be intended for a woman. It appeared large enough for Philip's body, though.
Silas didn't think twice and approached the bathroom door and knocked, allowing it to creak open slightly as he extended the sleeping gown.
"I am not wearing that," Philip said coldly.
"I couldn't find anything else," Silas said with a frown. "Unless you want to wear a bed sheet, or what I'm currently wearing."
There was silence on the other side of the door until Philip let out an annoyed sigh, followed by the sound of movement. Shortly after, coughing was heard.
"Philip…?" Silas asked, growing concerned.
"I'm freezing," Philip admitted in a hushed tone.
"You have a fireplace downstairs. Maybe we can use that?" Silas suggested.
"It hasn't been tended to in years."
Silas mentally cursed for the inconvenience, but then he had another idea.
"Philip, let's go to the room," Silas said. "I know how to warm you up."
"I would rather not…" Philip grumbled.
"Oh, so you'd rather die then?" Silas grunted out, recalling some stories of severe illness and death resulting from falling into freezing rivers.
Immediately, Philip opened the door, his eyes coldly fixed on Silas, though a soft pink hue tinted his cheeks. His hair remained wet, and he trembled from head to toe.
"I swear to you, Silas, if a word of this gets out, I will have your head," Philip threatened.
Silas blinked, staring at Philip in the nightgown – a sight that rendered him more delicate, and oddly, more handsome and beautiful than any other man or woman he had ever seen in his life. He couldn't explain it, but a warmth spread across his own face, his stomach softly twisting.
"Yeah, I won't tell a soul," Silas assured, doing his best to not let out a smile since Philip may take it the wrong way. They entered the room that Philip had once shared with his brother.
Silas retrieved the bedsheets from the other room and settled on the bed. He pulled off his jacket.
Philip was standing by the bedside, looking a bit hesitant.
Silas chuckled. "Come here," he said before pulling Philip into his lap by his arm.
Philip didn't put much of a fight, his face once again a shade of pink when he settled on Silas's legs. Silas draped them both with the bed sheets before he wrapped his arms around him, cradling him against his chest.
"You are freezing…" Silas murmured, feeling Philip's cold body pressed against his own warmth, and he could feel the tremors coursing through Philip's frame. Philip scooted closer, burying his head in the curve of Silas's neck. "But you'll be alright," Silas reassured him. "An uncle once told me that sharing body heat is how he and his wife would keep themselves warm during winter when they ran out of firewood. Though… they were found frozen dead one winter morning."
"That sounds very assuring," Philip grumbled sarcastically. "Though sharing body heat does make sense. My brother used to hold me, too, when I got cold."
Silas hummed softly, and they sat there in silence for a moment.
Even though Philip was cold, Silas enjoyed holding him and didn't want this moment to come to an end any time soon. The warmth spread down to the pit of his stomach as well, but he tried to ignore that sensation and focused on what was around the room while the howling of the cold winds whispered outside of the house.
"You really loved your brother, didn't you?" Silas gently asked after some time. Philip didn't respond, which didn't shock him. Silas had wondered for some time now if it was too painful for Philip to talk even a little bit about his brother. For the past months they spent time together, Philip had only brought his brother up twice, and it was only to bring up how he had to save him. Other than that, Philip avoided the subject entirely.
There were other people that Philip wouldn't bring up as well, like The Minister, or the pastor Jonathan, or Alexander. Which was rather strange the more Silas thought about it since those three men were usually the people, he heard, Philip was around the most in the mornings.
Then again, he barely talked about his parents to Philip because there was honestly nothing to talk about other than the arguments with his father or the fact that his mother simply agreed with everything his father said.
"He was… all I had left…" Philip spoke quietly, immediately catching Silas's attention. "It was… just the two of us… Just the two of us for a long time…" This time, Philip's voice cracked, making Silas's heart clench. "And then he was taken… and suddenly, I was alone…"
Silas felt a warm, wet sensation on his neck, realizing that Philip was quietly shedding tears.
He pulled Philip closer to him, trying his best to comfort Philip, as his own heart couldn't bear hearing Philip's voice so broken.
For a moment, he said nothing, thinking about what Philip had just told him.
Philip wasn't really the sort to open about his feelings. Well… no one was, except women at times and children. So, he was trying his best to think of a response without having Philip believe he was being ignored.
Now, Silas wasn't that close to his parents. But they were there when he needed them, like the one time he got attacked by their rooster after he was aggravating it with a stick; he was covered with scratch marks that his mother gently tended to.
Philip hadn't had parents ever since he was a child and only had his older brother until he was a young teenager. From what Silas had seen, Philip had no other friends, and most of the townspeople kept their distance from him as if he was some sort of deathly plague. Of course, people were afraid; Philip was a witch hunter, even though he hadn't captured any 'witches', which was interesting now that he thought about it.
Now Silas wondered if Philip had truly been alone before he came into the picture, which could explain his coldness and rudeness towards others.
Silas's heart twisted at how terrible Philip must have felt having no one to talk to, to be himself, before meeting him. Because the thing was Philip wasn't the vicious witch hunter that Alexander was, that everyone believed him to be. He was a young man who enjoyed learning about new things, writing fictional stories, sharing his knowledge, going on adventures, and being held like he was right now.
"You're not alone anymore, Philip," Silas whispered to him, his cheek resting atop Philip's head. He wanted to stop Philip from feeling the pain that no one in the village seemed to care to understand. "I'm here…"
Silas felt Philip clutch the front of his shirt, curling up closer to him. "I'm here…" Silas repeated. Eventually the trembling ceased in Philip's body, and he was fast asleep. A soft smile graced Silas's face as he observed Philip sleeping silently, appearing so calm and at peace in his embrace.
Philip looked nothing like the cold, condescending young man that Silas had tossed into the river.
Silas closed his eyes, his lips softly brushing against Philip's forehead, and he continued to cradle Philip in his arms for the remainder of the night.
Just a heads up, i post this story first in archive of our own and i also include awesome fan art done by readers as well there starting in chapter 15 I think (since that's when I started getting them) : ).
Peeps also engage in archive of our own more or in in tumblr. if you want to follow me in tumblr and ask questions you can do so. u can find me as chiconisroc in tumbrl and nisrocchico in archive of our own
or if you want you can leave a comment in this website too : ) or pm me