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Post by Matthias Walker on Jan 21, 2013 1:31:02 GMT -5
It’s not the right answer.
Or, God, maybe it is, or maybe it doesn’t change anything at all. Silas’s grip is still bruise-tight around his wrists, and between the splay of fingers on his hip and the wet drag of the other man’s tongue over his collarbone and the erratic stutter of his pulse, Matthias drops his head back against the cushions, eyes half-lidded and breath coming sharper. Every roughshod word is hot against his skin and a shiver chases down his spine, muscles flexing in an instinctive push against the pressure of Silas’s hands, and is it wrong, is it so bad that he wants so fucking much? He has made no promises of fidelity (aren’t they implied, though, implicitly understood?), and Silas is right there and offering and even now—even with Silas’s words a growl against his skin—he cannot find his voice long enough to say no to him.
“Trying to—” he closes his eyes against the accusation, a quick shake of his head against the utter painfulness of the thought; there have never been labels to whatever he has with Cesan, but, “It’s not like that,” he is any number of things but what Silas is implying is not one of them. What is it like then—Silas and Cesan and choosing between them has never been an option because they are so fucking different that Mattie still half-believes he can have both of them. Compartmentalize. God knows. But this, with the guilt souring in the pit of his stomach and the constricting around his chest, knowing that there will have to be explanations for the bruises and the red mark left by teeth and tongue later, this is not okay. This feels like cheating, like betrayal, and how the fuck do other people do monogamy with this kind of temptation?
Then the pressure drops away from his wrists and his hip and Silas slumps against him, and Matthias’s eyes open again on a soft exhale.
Relief or resignation.
Cautiously, his arms settle around Silas’s shoulders, fingers carding loosely through the werewolf’s hair, fall away when Silas lifts his head, and goes still with the admission. Not the first time he has heard it from Silas, but repetition does nothing to lessen the impact. His gaze wavers, mouth dry, and God, he is so fucking stupid for refusing this, has no words to form an adequate I’m sorry. (Would it be easier to return the confession? I love you too shouldn’t be so difficult an admission, and it’s true, but Mattie has read too many stupid poems and books to forget the difference between loving and being in love.)
“I’m not lying to myself.” The implications would be offensive coming from anyone else. Matthias pushes himself up into a sitting position, straightens the hoodie in silence, because fuck, yes, he wants Silas, but the not having is the only way he can keep some kind of equilibrium and yes, he is absolutely selfish and he knows. A better man would leave; the silence that falls between them is uncomfortable and even the slapstick movie still jabbering to itself has ceased to register. A better man would cut his losses and move on; a better man would be satisfied and happy without throwing the affection he already has in jeopardy for want of more.
“I don’t want to leave,” he sighs, and the fact that Silas does not want him to leave if Mattie is reading the way he curls into himself and the tone of his voice right goes unspoken but implied in the steady gaze, “Silas.” Coaxing. He shifts forward to pull Silas out of his defensive ball, crooks a smile at the werewolf, genuine if laced with regret at what he cannot give, “C’mon. We gotta finish the movie, at least. It’s a rom-com. The ending’s the best part.”
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Post by Zephyr on Jan 21, 2013 11:21:40 GMT -5
In the wake of the arousal; the rejection, Silas is in no mood for conversation. He wants to react much in the fashion of an injured animal. The wolf wants to thrash out, snarl, snap and bite, and the man has to restrain it. He can’t keep the low rumble of a growl out of his chest when Matthias sits up, fucking staring at him like he’s some kind of mental patient. For all that the man doesn’t want Matthias to leave, the wolf, injured and rejected, wants to be left alone to lick its wounds. Silas decides that if Matthias sits there looking at him like that for much longer, he’s just going to tell him to leave.
He is not a sideshow attraction. He’s a man, and despite popular belief, he has feelings. Feelings that people have no problem trampling all over and leaving in the dust, but feelings all the same.
The surgeon hopes and prays that Matthias does not touch him, because it took every ounce of his self-control to let go of the man the first time. Continued contact when he’s already this tense won’t be good for either of them. Then the man speaks and Silas isn’t sure if he feels regret or relief more strongly. He still isn’t looking at Matthias, because he doesn’t trust his own eyes. He’s sure there’s betrayal there, somewhere. Anger, hurt and embarrassment. He should be more in control of himself than this. He knew Matthias would refuse him. Before he’d thought it was because the man couldn’t stand him.
The truth doesn’t hurt any less. In fact, knowing that Matthias does want him and still rejected him hurts so much worse. It makes the wolf snarl when the man says his name. Like Matthias has any right at all to say his name; pretend he still cares. If he cared, he’d realize how much this is hurting Silas, even if the hunter is perfectly fine with how this is playing out. Peachy fucking keen. He even wants to continue on with the fucking movie like nothing at all happened.
It takes everything Silas has to press the wolf down; to leech the anger out of his own reaction. He sees where it’s coming from, the wolf, from a human point of view. He’s more than a little pissed off that Matthias thinks so little of him that he’s able and wants to just pretend nothing happened. Like Silas’ feelings, his wants and desires mean nothing.
So okay. If this is the way the kid wants to play it, Silas can play it too, and he lets himself be drawn out of his ball, fingers clawed up and clutching desperately for leverage.
The thing is, Silas cannot play this game. He’s physically impossible to pretend he doesn’t want Matthias, no matter how much the other man can play like he doesn’t want Silas. The werewolf’s reserve lasts up until Matthias’ hands are on him, and he has a brief moment of sheer panic where he thinks he might just take, his heart beating loudly in his chest and his eyes wide and sharp. In the wake of that though, Silas falls practically boneless. His pride doesn’t want him to rely on the man who obviously thinks so little of him, but Silas is physically and emotionally incapable of resisting Matthias…especially in this state.
He snorts, slumping against Matthias as the man pulls him out of his frozen spot on the couch, and yeah…it hurts to be this close to him knowing that Matthias wants nothing more out of him than the occasional meaningless cuddle…probably not that anymore – and he has to remind himself that that is so much better than the alternative of the occasional meaningless fuck – but the wolf is a creature of possession and Silas is a man that is easily dismantled by the affection of a select few and he practically melts into Matthias, still doing his best not to look at the other man.
The movie. Fine, the fucking movie. The surgeon gazes blankly at the television screen, uncomprehending of what is happening in the fucking movie at the moment. He stares numbly, muscles tense, but body pliant. He lets a few moments of silence fall before he speaks. His voice is flat, and he doesn’t bother to look at Matthias when he starts talking, his gaze very blindly fixed on the tv screen.
“I’m not going to stop.” His voice might be completely deadpan, but it’s strong and sure. This much he knows. “I’m never going to stop wanting you. I won’t stop trying for you…unless you don’t want me to.” Or I die. But he’s pretty sure that is a thought Matthias doesn’t need to hear, not when he’s pretty sure he’s been making enemies pretty fucking rapidly.
“I’ll never stop losing my breath when I see you looking at me.” The admission is a quieter one, vulnerable and painfully earnest, following on the heels of the stronger proclamation. His voice is soft, a mere whisper of breath, mostly lost to the mindless babbling of the movie…but Silas moves again, into Matthias. He finally turns his face towards the other man and kisses him again. This time the kiss is softer, less passion than resignation and it’s near chaste as it touches the corner of Matthias’ lips before he pulls away and focuses on the movie once more.
He still doesn’t give a shit about the goddamn movie though.
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Post by Matthias Walker on Jan 22, 2013 21:10:53 GMT -5
Silas is still fucking tense when Mattie eases an arm around his shoulders, squeezes in a gesture caught somewhere between reassuring and bleakly resigned, and he has no idea if it makes it better or worse that Silas still yields to him. For a grumpy asshole, the werewolf is fragile enough in his own right and turns in to him like he is conditioned to melt at the affection, and where the words fail him, Matthias draws Silas against him, presses a mute kiss against his temple. The movie—despite his earlier coaxing—is as good as background noise now, the ice cream left to melt on the coffee table.
Before, the crush was ignorable, a silent secret tucked close to his ribs. This is different, makes it as starkly visible as the bruises darkening on his wrists, and even with Silas in his arms like this, it just isn’t possible.
They are not star-crossed lovers; this is not a fucking romance book or sappy chick-flick; Cesan is not and will never be disposable.
He finally has something worth keeping, a fragile equilibrium, and throwing it away for the promise of love when he isn’t sure he doesn’t already have it is not an option, regardless of the temptation, regardless of how well Silas knows him. They managed friendship, without strings, without sex, once, and there is no reason they cannot settle for that again. Silas’s insistence of love, too—well, that will fade with time, and Mattie’s crush can go back to being simply that. It is no more and no less than he deserves, and better for Silas: There will be others better suited for a doctor than Mattie, of all people.
Then Silas speaks again (and of course he wouldn’t be paying attention to the movie—even Mattie has no idea what quirky comments are being made anymore), and God. Promises of forever sit all wrong in the pit of his stomach; it is endearing in its way, but he is a hunter. There will eventually come the day when he leaves Boston and does not come back, and when he cannot even give Silas anything now to ease the eventual good-bye, the thought of Silas waiting for him is not—
It complicates things.
Then again, Silas always does a good job complicating things.
The kiss, he thinks, should sharpen the guilt again, recall the flare of sick betrayal, but the brush of Silas’s lips over his skin is the lightest and simplest of touches. Matthias sighs, turns to pull Silas closer against him, and it is absolutely, utterly selfish of him to want Silas to keep wanting him, he knows.
“I’m not going to just leave him,” stated perhaps too bluntly to be fitting and tired as he threads his fingers through Silas’s and squeezes, the statement softened by the half-protective way he curls around Silas in vague instinctive memory of sharing a bed. “I know you don’t like him,” as if the snapping and growling hadn’t been good enough a giveaway for that, Jesus, “But I—just, I don’t want to fuck it up.” There are awards for understatements of the fucking year, aren’t there? “Don’t—I’m really not worth getting hung up over, y’know.”
A warning, yes, but still not asking Silas not to. In the end, Mattie still fucking wants, cannot dismiss Silas now. Saying no has never been closer to impossible. Absently, with the movie a tireless drone, he cards his fingers through Silas’s hair, chiding and affectionate, and offers, “How should we like it if the stars were to burn with a passion for us we could not return? If equal affection cannot be…” [/blockquote]
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Post by Zephyr on Jan 22, 2013 23:10:05 GMT -5
The press of Matthias’ body is not as comforting as Silas thought it would be. It’s difficult to feel comforted when the affection feels humoring. Matthias wants him. Wants him so much that his body just yields to Silas’ mouth and hands and fingers, but he still rejects him and knowing that the man does want him is almost worse than Matthias saying he wants nothing to do with him.
He’s such an idiot. Should have seen this before; should have pursued it. He sees their situations as remarkably similar, only Silas had been trying to hold together a relationship with chewing gum that had no chance of being salvaged. Still…
…Silas isn’t one to just give up.
The hunter’s words settle and twist sour in his gut. The thought of Cesan has Silas’ lip curling in a silent snarl that he hides against Matthias’ body. The wolf isn’t pleased. It wants to hunt down the thread, eliminate it. While Silas doesn’t have that many morals, he does have some, and letting the wolf have its way in this is just not an option. He’s just come to the realization that the animal is a feral and starkly possessive beast…and it’s claimed Matthias since that full moon in the apartment.
“Didn’t ask you to.” Comes Silas’ voice. He cannot quite keep the quiet snarl out of his voice. The sadness and regret are tight in his voice. Yeah. He fucking wants Matthias to leave Cesan. The stranger’s feelings are nothing to Silas when it comes to love and possession with the wolf writhing white hot and hungry in his chest. The broken heart of someone he does not know is of no consequence to Silas…but asking Matthias to choose between them is not an option either, least of all because he’s pretty sure it isn’t him the hunter would choose.
”I know you don’t like him.” Silas twists subtly in Matthias’ grip, curling in on himself and repressing the snarl he wants to let out. What was his first fucking clue? “Am I supposed to like him?” Silas’ words are soft and defensive and utterly exhausted. “When he’s the reason I can’t have you?” Silas might not have had a problem with Cesan if they’d met under different circumstances; if he weren’t standing in the way of this. “I’ll never like him, and if you actually care…” Which Silas isn’t so sure of anymore. “You won’t try and fucking make me.”
He tries to let the aggression seem out of his body, but Matthias isn’t done yet and Silas feels himself growing defensive once more. The poetry, oddly enough, tempers his anger. The doctor lets out a low, shaking sigh as he leans his head against Matthias, looking blindly forward. “…let the more loving one be me.” He finishes the poetry with a deadpan voice. “Fuck you.” The words are soft, even through the curl of his lip. “You aren’t allowed to just dismiss my goddamn feelings like that. You can’t tell me what to feel…and you obviously can’t judge your own worth, so you can’t even start that with me.”
He falls silent after that. Is quiet for a long time in Matthias’ arms, gaze blank and on the tv. “Is this it then?” He doesn’t bother looking at Matthias. “Do you want me to stop? To leave you alone to be with him.” Yes, Silas wants Matthias happy, but he wants him happy with him. Finally, he lifts his head up to look at Matthias, eyes guarded and wary. “Tell me there’s no chance for us. Tell me I don’t have a chance and I’ll stop here and now.” He searches blue eyes for a moment. “I don’t want to be just a regret to you, or the thing that’s just around to fuck up your life. I won’t anymore, if you don’t want me to.”
His voice is full of bitterness, and yeah, leaving Boston isn’t something he’d ever thought about doing. He has a good job, and up until recently, had carefully avoided emotional bullshit and all the crap that comes with it.
…but when it rains, it pours. And he’d probably do anything for Matthias.
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Post by Matthias Walker on Jan 25, 2013 2:08:46 GMT -5
“I didn’t say that.”
A little too defensive, a little too possessive. Being wanted is nice, but the constant insinuation that Cesan is a problem is not, and neither is the implication that he is being insensitive, even if, yeah, maybe he is. Matthias has always dealt better with feelings after the fact, and if it means turning tail and running back to the familiarity of friendship, then so be it. It’s easier than addressing the fact that at the end of the day, he is going to walk out of Silas’s apartment not because he has to but because he wants to go back to Cesan, kinder than pointing out that his aversion to believing I love you started long before Silas started saying it to him, gentler a rejection than arguing over relationships that have never had definite boundaries in the first place.
Why can’t Silas let it go? Promises of forever never last; it will pass; it will fade. It is an inconvenient, belated rebound; a crush blown out of proportion in the style of high school drama. Tomorrow, these confessions will become embarrassing, and Mattie silently curls closer around Silas, reluctant to let go with the anticipation of the fall-out, his gaze pinned distractedly to the opposite wall. The movie still plays on, cheerful and funny and rambling to itself, like a bizarrely out-of-place soundtrack, and the amusement of quoting stupid lines has been long forgotten.
He loosens his grip when Silas shifts to pull away, gaze shuttering in automatic wariness, and, yes. How fucking easy would it be to answer no, there was no fucking chance because of a hundred reasons, and he wouldn’t need to deal with it anymore.
He’s a fucking hunter, not the hero of some dumb gay romance novel.
Attachments complicate things and Mattie is pretty damn sure that the sheer stupidity of having a werewolf admirer and sleeping with a hunter is off the fucking charts all on its own, never mind the temptation that Silas presents. But knowing the risks and the inevitable clusterfuck in theory means nothing in practice, not when Silas is looking at him like he expects Mattie to break his heart, not when he’s just gotten him back from his own screwed-up sense of importance. Not when he isn’t sure that he wouldn’t be lying through his teeth, not if it means throwing away the first man who gave enough of a shit about him in five years to ask him to stay.
“I don’t know,” he says numbly, staring, “You know I can’t—I’m not gonna fucking—just don’t make me answer that.” It is such a goddamn trap, betrayal or heartbreak one way or another, and Mattie would be angry, can muster halfhearted irritation at best around the sinking feeling in his stomach. “I’m not going to regret you, just. I missed you, okay? I missed you a lot, so if it’s got to be all or nothing, I’m not exactly gonna be picky, Silas, but you and me, it’s not going to happen now because I’m not asshole enough to fuck around behind Cesan’s back.” They both deserve better than that, and Mattie likes to think he deserves better than hovering in this constant half-exhaustion half-guilt, tripping over his words because he has no fucking clue if there can even be a right answer.
“Just,” this time he is the one to lean in, the kiss catching the corner of Silas’s mouth in a dry brush of lips over skin, “No. No, I don’t want you to leave.”
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Post by Zephyr on Jan 26, 2013 12:39:01 GMT -5
The fact that Matthias would chose Cesan over Silas, every single time, is a thought that settles heavily in his gut. He isn’t sure what he’d expected out of Matthias, by telling him he loved him. Maybe a part of him hoped the kid would tell him he loved him back. He had that once before, when he was a kid. The girl he’d been with in high school had told him she loved him, bust he could never manage to say it back because he didn’t actually love her back.
Matthias doesn’t love him. Wants him, sure, but doesn’t love him. Maybe he never had. It’s hard to deny the way the hunter came to his rescue so many times. When no one else had, Matthias had been there, wrapped around him in sleep. That isn’t something that happens between just friends. There’s more there, even if the other man refuses to admit it to himself.
And Silas will fight for whatever that is as long as he can.
The doctor leans numbly against Matthias, eyes fixed on the TV, but not really seeing it. The fact that Matthias doesn’t feel enough about him to choose him is one that wits heavily in the back of his mind, but he’s comforted by the fact that the man didn’t answer the question, and until he does…until he tells Silas plainly that there is no chance between them, he’ll keep fighting for the smallest chance that Matthias will finally decide Silas is worth it. Even if Silas doesn’t think it himself half the time.
The kid’s words are soft and ominous in Silas’ ear, and Silas wants to laugh out loud, or snort, or both. Hasn’t he already regretted him? When Silas had him held against the couch, fingers tight against skin, he could see the lust and want and guilt burning in his eyes. Isn’t guilt just another form of regret, softer, but equally as potent with what it does to the mind.
He doesn’t even flinch at that last bit. It had been about to happen. Silas doubts Matthias would have told him no if he wouldn’t have stopped. And he has to be the stupidest fucking bastard for stopping. The way Matthias was opening up under his hands and mouth and body, there’s no way he was going to say no. Silas wants to point that out, but feels that, at this point, doing so would do more harm than good. So instead, he stays silent, leaning into Matthias’ touch and staring forward, his body still tense with the desire to touch Matthias as strong as ever.
The doctor also doesn’t voice the simple fact that relationships don’t last forever. He isn’t sure what’s between Matthias and Cesan…isn’t sure he wants to know. But this…whatever it is he has with Matthias, has to be a hell of a lot stronger if it’s seen through so much goddamn bullshit. So he holds onto that, and the fact that the fucking brat still wants him here. There’s no way he’s going to stop, no way he’s going to give up…but for now, he can let it rest because he knows where Matthias is and knows what he’s not doing. When he leaves, and Silas has to face his cold bed alone, things will be different, and at least he always has the bourbon. For now though, he can pretend things are going to be fine, and he plasters a smile on his face…one that trembling between genuine and fake. It’s easy to tell he’s struggling…especially for someone who smiles as little as Silas does.
“Like you’d be able to get rid of me that easy.” The surgeon chuckles, running his fingers playfully through Matthias’ hair and nudging the kid’s head with his forehead. “I’m like goddamn herpes.” And that’s the most romantic thought ever, Silas. But…what can you expect out of an antisocial doctor? “I’m always going to be here.” Even when no one else is.
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Post by Matthias Walker on Jan 29, 2013 22:12:33 GMT -5
What part of his uncertain ramble is good enough for Silas to finally let go of the sharp-edged interrogation, the constant implications and the pushing, Matthias has no fucking clue. It is a non-answer, an evasion, and he knows it. But Silas, thank God, Silas takes it, and if the werewolf’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, Mattie isn’t looking too closely anyway. The demand of keeping up with the kind of things that Silas wants without falling into familiar white lies is exhausting. Answering Silas’s chuckle with a crooked grin of his own, he closes his eyes at the pressure of fingers in his hair, and if this, breathing the same air as Silas, curled around him on his couch with a dumb movie running ignored in the background, feels more intimate than sex, well.
That is something Mattie can keep to himself.
And then Silas opens his mouth, and Matthias blinks his eyes open, pins Silas with a stare that is equal parts bewildered and awed as he replays that last sentence in his mind, because, yes, that was definitely a herpes metaphor. Herpes. A werewolf comparing himself to herpes. And no matter how profound, how achingly bittersweet, the follow-up, Matthias’s expression transforms into a bark of startled laughter, the helpless grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. He curls himself into a ball on the couch, leaning on Silas, muffling the peals of laughter into the werewolf’s shirt. It isn’t that funny, but it is so absolutely, utterly out of place in the painful solemnity of Silas’s promises and his own inadequacy.
“Wow,” he snickers, “Very romantic, Romeo, is that how you pick up all the pretty girls, herpes metaphors?” He nudges Silas in the ribs absently with his knee, and though his first instinct is to kiss him—chaste, simple, even platonic, on the temple—he isn’t playing that game anymore, settles for reaching out to ruffle Silas’s hair up. The kind of gesture reserved for little brothers, not lovers, not people in love. Still, “Cute. Really. I’ve always wanted my very own grumpy sexually transmitted infection.”
The laugh yields to a sigh that stems more of contentment and of relief than of exhaustion, and Mattie is quiet a moment, sobering. When blue eyes meet Silas’s again his gaze is softer, meditative, “Too early to go for lunch?” It isn’t a date. Seeking refuge in public is a cheap trick, but solitude like this gives way for too many of the dark unspoken things to rise to the surface, and is friendship too much to ask. “There’s that Thai place down the street,” carefully casual. It isn’t a date. It’s not. “Probably healthier than ice cream and Cheetos. We could—if you want? I mean, you’re injured, but it’s not like you get many days off anyway, might as well put it to good use, y’know?”
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Post by Zephyr on Jan 30, 2013 13:03:44 GMT -5
He knows it is a mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth, but in lieu of any better comparison, the herpes comparison seemed pretty appropriate. He’s already regretting it, with that look Matthias is giving him, but he’s pretty good at playing it off as something that was completely intentional, what with the dead serious look on his face.
The serious look that dissolves into a genuine smile of amusement when the brat starts laughing. And how he’s missed this, making Matthias laugh. Silas is good at coming up with comments that make Matthias break down in laugher, and the doctor takes a second to just watch him, the expression on his face as he breaks down into delighted peals of laughter. Normally Silas would have grumbled and grouched while hiding the pleasure that he isn’t making any secret of now…it’s just been so long since he’s had this…he just can’t bring himself to hide it.
“You’re a brat.” Silas growls at Matthias, even while he’s still smiling…the smile that melts from Silas’ face with the feeling of Matthias’ hand in his hair. It isn’t something that Matthias hasn’t done before, and most of the time Silas accepts it with a grumble and a growl because it’s meant to piss him off. This time, it feels different, out of place in the intimacy of their interactions.
It stings so badly and Silas tenses up, on the verge of pushing Matthias away.
Silas has a difficult time gauging what he deserves. He doesn’t think he’s a good person, and he’s never thought particularly highly about himself…he knows he isn’t so great of a person that he deserves anything good. Maybe though, just maybe, he doesn’t deserve this. Doesn’t deserve to be treated like someone who needs to be humored, like the feelings that he feels aren’t meaningful or important and can be easily forgotten the next time Matthias sees Cesan. And it hurts, it does…the fact that Matthias can so easy dismiss Silas’ feelings as unimportant and just curl into unabashed laugher like nothing is wrong.
He thinks that he might deserve better than that; someone who won’t treat him as so much of a fuck up that he doesn’t really know what he’s feeling. The fact that Matthias doesn’t think he’s serious is one that guts him completely, and he thinks about pulling away from Matthias; tell him that he doesn’t want to go out and watching the hunter leave.
But Silas has never been that strong. Especially now, where Matthias is concerned. He knows he doesn’t deserve to be taken seriously. He isn’t so good a person that he deserves Matthias to take him seriously for a change. He doesn’t deserve Matthias, as a lover or a friend…and maybe Cesan does. Maybe the man is a better person than Silas is, but he just can’t think like that, and no matter what happens, he just can’t give up. He might not deserve Matthias to himself, he wants it so bad that he can’t think about anything else, and the tension in his body bleeds away into quiet resignation.
This isn’t how it’s going to be, Matthias ignoring the fact that Silas is in love with him and pleased as punch with ignoring it. Not for long. He won’t give up, but there comes a point when pursing the hunter just gets sad. It hasn’t come to that yet, and for now, Silas can forget the hurt in his heart in favor of Matthias’ easy smiles and the offer of lunch with the hunter…because no matter what, spending time with Matthias is still infinitely better than having to go without him.
“Fine.” He growls with amusement that might not be entirely genuine while he playfully pushes the hunter away, getting to his feet and grabbing for the cast, ignoring the scream of pain in his arm. “I’d say you’re paying, but who’m I kidding? We both know you don’t have any money.” The surgeon teases with a toothy grin. And just like that, he forgets all the indecision, all the pain…or maybe he just pushes it away in favor of spending time with Matthias. “Let me go get some real fucking clothes on and we can go.”
With that, Silas disappears into his bedroom, and his step absolutely does not falter once he gets out of sight.
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