I really adored and enjoyed that SilverFlint "Unrequited", I'd love to see a version from Silver's point of view :)
Send me a "Unrequited" and I'll write a drabble about one character longing for the other
Iām not entirely sure how I feel about this, but I hope you like it!
The rain beating against the thatched roof of the hut John occupied seemed oddly appropriate, given his mood. Heād spent the last few hours going over the plans for the upcoming battle. It wasnāt the impending carnage that was bothering him, though. No, it was something else entirely.
Silver had been thinking very much about the nature of his relationship with Flint. From adversaries to friends, their journey had been a long and hard one. He couldnāt be sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, heād fallen in love.
True, heād had his share of fantasies about the captain since that night heād had him pressed up against the rocks with a knife at his throat, but he hadnāt realized it was more than that until they were trapped in that cage, half starved to death, and Flint offered to give his life for the crewās. Panic the likes of which Silver had only known a handful of times in his life had gripped his chest. Logically, he knew he could live without Flint, could survive in this world without him, but the thought of it twisted him inside out until he simply could not be silent. The realization that, with all of their lives hanging in the balance, he would bet on Flintās powers of persuasion if it meant he lived another day hit him, and Silver wondered how he came to be this person.
Deep down, Silver had known that this infatuation with Flint could never be anything more. Even on the rare occasions heād allowed himself to entertain the idea that the captain might share his feelings, he knew that this war and the possibility that the men might lose respect for them would prevent anything from happening.
Still, it wasnāt until the night before, when he and Flint had buried the treasure alone in the dark, that he knew just how impossible it would be. In all the times Silver had fantasized about a life free from piracy and war, where he might be free to approach Flint with his feelings, he never, not once, considered that Flint was already in love with another man.
As Flint spoke of Thomas, his voice wistful in a way Silver had never heard, two things became painfully apparent to Silver. The first was that Flint did in fact have a predilection toward men. The second was that Flintās heart was already taken.
Flint was a man who fought for love, so it would seem. Or, perhaps more accurately, revenge in the name of a love that was lost. To hear Flint speak of Thomas was to hear of a man so good and just and pure (and everything Silver was not) that he may as well have been an angel. Silver was a man who knew his limitations, and he knew he could never compete with the ghost of Thomas Hamilton.
Perhaps it was better this way. If his predictions about where his friendship with Flint would lead them were correct, perhaps it would be better if he did not allow himself to get lost in Flint the way he so desperately wanted to.
