heavy is the heart that knows

by Freshwater_Pons

Summary:

Silver hopes his stares burns as hot as the anger gilded over his tongue: bitter and constant and fueled by each swish of alcohol that aches terribly down his throat and into his empty stomach.

Silver doesn't know how he feels about Duo. He does know that the feline reminds him of a certain Darkness though.

Notes:

Additional Info

1. as with all my Silver writings, he remembers the events of '06
2. references to Mephiles’ manipulation
↳ it is vaguely implied that there was a romantic and/or sexual relationship between Mephiles and Silver, but this can be enjoyed within the context of their canon relationship
3. tagged as "Duo the Cat", however there a nod toward his identity as Mimic

Silver’s gaze lingers on Duo from across the room.

Laughing. Draping his arm around Lanolin. Dangling his can and letting it tap against his thigh with each slight movement, hardly ever lifting it to take a sip. 

So normal. So innocent.

Silver hopes his stares burns as hot as the anger gilded over his tongue: bitter and constant and fueled by each swish of alcohol that aches terribly down his throat and into his empty stomach. Burns bright, hot. 

He’d been ditched. Regardless of why Duo claims it happened, regardless of how Lanolin reprimands him for assuming the worst, Duo had left him: to fend for himself; to die.

Silver’s no stranger to a threat or two against his life, found himself trapped in the jaws of a wild badnik enough times to know not to dissolved into a helpless puddle of panic. But watching Duo leave — those eyes staring back at him, the image seared behind Silver's eyelids — and feeling the weight of sharpened metal teeth close in on him, graze against his skin…

Silver was afraid.

Silver is afraid.

And that truth weighs heavy on his conscience.

Doubt and regret prickle along Silver’s arms, raising goosebumps in their wake, because… Because, what if he’s wrong? A fleeting thought, one intended to leave just as fast as it had come as he tilts his head back and downs another mouthful that should, must, burn the thoughts into cinders.

But the flame flickers, weak. And his mind has other ideas. Latches onto the thought, instead, cradles it in a hold so gentle it blossoms, petals of doubt unfurling and thriving beneath the light of his attention.

Silver’s chest tightens, his breath escaping in a shaky exhale: he’s being unfair to Duo. Jumping to conclusions and accusations with little more than blink-and-you-miss-it sights that he doesn’t, can’t, doubt that his own mind is making up. He isn’t exactly known to be the most trusting,—

(not anymore, not in a long time, not since…)

—what if that has clouded his judgment? Is he still so paranoid to imagine betrayal at every corner?

(is he strong enough to see the truth? brave enough to face it?)

Another hurried swig. This time, the glass edge clinks against his teeth in a way that borders on painful, but he doesn’t care, can’t, not when he’s set on swallowing one mouthful, another, a third for good measure to ensure the liquid courage does its job: chases imposing Darkness swirling over his mind back into the recesses; rots each petal until they wilt and droop lifeless.

Duo’s crowd is laughing again, loud over the music somehow. And it’s like a magnet, draws Silver’s gaze back to the feline. 

It’s only then that he realises that Duo is watching too. Meeting his stare with wide, curious, brown eyes, completely disengaged from whatever his group is cheering about, hardly registering Lanolin shaking his arm off her, and instead wholly invested in Silver.

(it used to make him feel special, being the sole object of someone’s attention. the apple of someone’s eye, a fruit not yet plucked, not yet tainted. now, his skin crawls. his core withers rotten.)

Silver musters a smile, if it can even be called that. Hopes it reaches his eyes convincingly enough. Duo, unfortunately, is difficult to read, smiles so cheery they border on fake, pouts wrapped suffocatingly tight in a thick layer of guilt-trip. Whether he’s realised something is up or not, he smiles back. 

And waves Silver over. And Silver’s stomach churns.

So nice. So kind. 

(does that really mean much? was He not kind?)

No. This is wrong. Silver is wrong, has been wrong to brand Duo with such damaging suspicions, hasn’t he? Let his fear twist into something cruel and ugly, taking it out on a volunteer who’s uprooted their very life for the restoration. That’s noble. That’s the sign of a hero.

(morals and values aligning or not, that doesn’t explain the eyes. always with the eyes. brown on white, white on black, black and soulless and corrupt and Dark, Darker still upon sickly greens…)

Silver’s body moves faster than his brain can catch up, thoughts lagging in a rising pool of fear while unsteady legs carry him across the room. The crowd is a blur, drowned out by an unpleasant static tingling over his mind. He sways, stumbles maybe. Duo reaches his hand out, eyes never leaving Silver’s graceless dance, pulling Silver in by the elbow when he’s close enough to reach.

And Silver lets him. Leans into it and slings an arm over Duo’s shoulder like they’re friends; like he wasn’t burning holes into Duo’s head with a gaze so lethal mere moments prior.

(he’s wrong, he’s wrong, he is wrong, this is nice, Duo is nice)

“You okay, Silvey?”

Silvey. It rolls off Duo’s tongue too casually, two syllables dripping like sweetened syrup over Silver’s sour attitude. Clears his mind as abrupt as a bucket of cold water thrown over his lanky frame and seeping into his sweaty fur.

“Yeah.” He manages. Shaky, because despite the self-doubt curdling in his stomach, erasing and writing over all he thought he believed, sprouting ugly weeds in the resting place of a flower now decayed, his anger and skepticism persist. Fester, silent. “Yeah, ‘m all good.”

Notes:

i'm failing the "Let Silver Be Happy" challenge.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of stuck on the dark side of the sun