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Silas dislikes noisy places.
He is unfortunately having dinner at a grand, overcrowded banquet surrounded by the wealthy people in his area. The sound of silverware clinking and loud, self important laughter fills the room.
Silas spent the last hour politely nodding along to conversations he didn’t exactly care for. He finally grew tired and excused himself out of the banquet hall.
He stops in a random hallway, a long one that cuts off the chatter from elsewhere in the building.
He leans against the dark wood wall, rolling a cigarette between his fingers. He takes a slow drag of his cigarette and exhales a pale cloud of smoke that drifts toward the high ceiling.
It’s a bad habit he’s picked up recently, something to keep his hands occupied. He knows the potential consequences that come with it, but chooses to ignore them.
He hears footsteps to his left.
Silas turns his head just in time to see Oskar rounding the corner. His jaw is set in a thin line. Silas lets his eyes drift over him.
Oskar is dressed impeccably, as always. Neat hair, tailored waist coat, not a single thread out of place. It’s distractingly charming. Silas finds it unfair.
Oskar’s pace slows when he spots Silas standing alone in the dimly lit corridor.
“Still out here?” Oskar asks, walking towards the white haired man.
“It’s quieter." Silas offers a small smile.
“Don’t you want one?” Silas gestures lightly with the cigarette.
“I’ve only ever tried it once. Hated it,” Oskar scrunches his nose in disgust. “Probably because I choked on the smoke.”
“Suit yourself.”
Silence falls over them.
The muffled sound of glass clinking and the muffled chatter drifts from down the hall.
Oskar’s eyes stray back to Silas. He follows the movement of Silas’ hands as he lifts them to his mouth, taking another drag. Oskar’s gaze shifts to Silas’ lips.
Silas catches the look. He lowers the cigarette to his side. His thoughts form into words before he can hesitate. “You know, with the way you’re looking at me I would assume you want a drag.”
“Is that so?”
Silas’ eyes sparkle with slight mischief. “Want a taste?”
Oskar looks genuinely lost for a second. “What?”
Before he can process the words, Silas reaches out, hooking his fingers into the fabric of Oskar’s silk necktie.
He pulls him up with a gentle tug until their lips meet
Oskar goes rigid for a moment, caught completely off guard. Then he exhales sharply against Silas’ mouth. He faintly registers the taste of tobacco on Silas’ lips. His hand shoots up to grab Silas by the collar, just to have something to hold onto.
Silas feels his heart hammering against his ribs as he tilts his head to slot his lips better against Oskar’s.
Oskar melts into it for a second, letting Silas push him back until his back hits the wall. Silas kisses him again and again, his grip on Oskar’s tie tightening as he deepens the kiss.
Then, Oskar detaches himself fully.
He lets go of Silas’ collar, his arms dropping back to his sides. He looks down at the floorboards, breathing heavily.
Silas feels a cold wave of disappointment settle in his chest. He swallows it down before it can show on his face, and he adjusts his glasses with a shaking hand.
“We shouldn't be doing this here,” Oskar warns.
“No one is out here,” Silas counters softly. He doesn't like how small his voice sounds.
Oskar doesn’t move away, but he turns his head away, turning his attention to the wall across from them. Silas takes a few steps to the side, positioning himself next to Oskar, facing the same direction as him.
Hanging there is a worn out oil portrait of a young lord, presumably from the last century or so. “Look at him. He probably spent his youth running through gardens sneaking out to meet commoner girls.” His voice drops to a bitter register. “Getting his heart broken at seventeen and writing terrible poetry about it.”
Silas blinks, following his gaze. “What an interesting thing to say. Are you longing for young romance, Oskar?”
“No,” Oskar mutters. His jaw clenches as he stares at the portrait. “I’m just…. looking at a boy who was allowed to have one.”
Silas turns his head quizzically. “Alllowed?”
Oskar lets out a sigh. “You know, when you live in a society that doesn’t approve of men like us existing out in the open, you tend to miss out on a lot of things”
“So we spend our youth hiding,” he continues bitterly “Now we're far too old for any of it.”
“We’re both here now,” Silas argues gently. “Is it really wrong to have this?”
“Is it?” Oskar laughs, although there is no humor behind it. “Look at how we are. Two forty year old men sneaking around in a hallway of a mansion full of aristocrats that could destroy our lives if they turned the corner right now. Isn't that the least bit depressing?”
“It isn’t ideal,” Silas murmurs. “I wouldn’t call it depressing, though.”
“Whatever we are is illegal, Silas.” Oskar states bluntly.
Silas turns towards Oskar and finds him staring back. “Are we something?” He falters as he sees Oskar’s expression turn pained. Silas winces and looks back down at his shoes. “Sorry.”
They fall into silence for a while before Oskar speaks again. “We only get ten minutes in a hallway while food gets cold.”
“Ten minutes is better than nothing.” Silas’ tone is earnest.
Oskar looks at him sideways. “You’re absurdly optimistic.”
“I wouldn’t say optimistic.” Silas admits, a small sullen smile tugging at his lips. “Society gives us little room. I’m simply using the room we’re given.”
Oskar lets out a fond breath. His shoulders relax a little.. “You always have something smart to say, don’t you?”
“I try.” Silas says gently.
Oskar looks back at him for a moment, his gaze turns cautious. “You know it’s dangerous, Silas.”
“I’m willing to be a little foolish.” Silas gives a smile that’s almost bittersweet.
“At our age?” Oskar asks. His eyes are filled with longing as he stares back at Silas. “It’s slightly childish, no?”
“Let it be childish, then.”
The clicking of heels shatters the quiet intimacy.
The two of them spring apart instantly. Oskar shoves himself off the wall and makes it to the opposite side of the hall in 3 quick strides. He smooths his waist coat down, his expression turning unreadable.
Silas swallows hard. He straightens his collar out in an attempt to look as casual as possible.
A butler steps around the same corner Oskar had come from earlier, holding a silver tray with her right arm. “Good evening gentlemen.” Her tone is even and professional as she bows her head politely. “Is everything alright out here? The dessert will be served soon.”
“Everything is fine.” Oskar replies immediately. His voice is devoid of any emotion. “We merely wanted some quiet. You know how the noise gets sometimes.”
“Yes,” Silas agrees, keeping his voice quiet. “We were heading back soon.”
“That’s lovely to hear. Please let the staff know if you need anything.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Oskar says, dismissing the butler.
She gives a polite nod before retreating back down the hall, her footsteps fading away in the distance.
“We should go back to the dining hall, Silas.” Oskar suggests, although his tone leaves no room for negotiation. “We don’t need people asking questions.”
Silas wants to say something until he sees the guarded fear behind Oskar’s eyes and decides against it.
“Right,” he says softly. “Of course.”
Oskar doesn’t wait for him. He turns around without another word and walks away, footsteps retreating back down the hall, leaving Silas alone in the hallway once more.