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Flint wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly where he stood with Silver.
Silver was the most dangerous man he’d ever encountered. He had lied to him, stolen from him, threatened him with the very tangible possibility of being his end.
There was a part of him – a rational, sensible part of him – that wanted to retreat, to hide himself behind the walls which had been his haven for so long. That part of him longed for remaining unknown and rejected any kind of vulnerability.
And then he would talk to Silver, and, day after day, he would give him another piece of himself that no one else knew. And it would be easy, it would feel good to be known by him. And he would give Silver a bit more.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew loving a man that came from nothing and refused to be known was a dangerous thing.
He loved John Silver anyway.
He also knew that Silver liked him, but nothing indicated he liked him the way Flint did. Silver was his partner and his friend – he would probably never be his lover. And that was fine. Their bond wasn’t less meaningful because John didn’t love him in any way but platonically.
They were close enough to lead the men with the same mind, close enough so that Flint could trust Silver. And that was enough for what they needed to do, it was enough for bringing down the British Empire and for conquering Nassau, it was enough for reaching the end Flint had given his life for.
It was fine. It was enough.
But there was a part of him – that wasn’t sensible, and that wasn’t always rational - that wished for something more.
It was a moonless night, and Flint’s crew had built a bonfire on the beach of Maroon Island. They were gathered around it, enjoying themselves by dancing, drinking and sharing questionable stories of heroism.
Exceptionally on that night, Flint had decided to join them, although he remained farther away from the fire than the rest. He sat on the sand, with his back against a log, holding a bottle of rum in quiet contemplation.
There was a general spirit of elation amongst the men after the victory against the British on the previous week, and it was slightly intoxicating. Standing there, one could easily feel invincible, as though the battle for Nassau had already been fought and won - or, worse, as though war had never been a worry on their minds, as though one didn’t have to fight to be free in that world.
Flint leaned his head against the log, staring at the night sky and easily identifying some of the constellations. He allowed the deceitful joy that emanated from the men to play with his thoughts, letting go of everything that surrounded him. For a moment, it felt as though he was staring at the stars from a British ship, happy with the thought of returning to London and seeing Thomas after a long time at sea.
Then he lowered his head to the bonfire, and the present reality engulfed him all at once. As he let his eyes wander over those loud and harsh men, he considered who they had been before they gave up their lives and ran to the sea.
Looking at them, at the raw state they all lived in, it was impossible not to think of how far he’d come from being a liege to Thomas, from musing enlightened ideas in his saloon, from loving him. Sometimes, the abysm between those lives would be too stark, it would make him wonder how those two people – Flint and McGraw – could both be him.
Would Thomas recognize him if he were still alive? Could he ever let Flint go entirely, as he thought he could when Miranda was with him? Was he still capable of a feeling so untainted as his love for Thomas had been?
As he asked those questions, his eyes fell unpretentiously upon Silver, who sat among the crew, opposite to him. He looked at ease, as he always did with the men, immersed in conversation, sharing drinks.
It fitted him – much more than it had ever fitted Flint. Looking at him now, it wasn’t hard to know he was right about the influence he claimed to have upon them. Flint couldn’t even tell whether they were his crew or simply Silver’s men at that point.
He thought that sharing the authority with Silver would bother him – that it should bother him after John had threatened him. But it didn’t. It was becoming painfully clear to Flint that Silver was his blind spot, which made him incredibly vulnerable to him.
On the other side of the bonfire, John said something to the men that created a wave of laughter. Flint watched as he sighed and ran his eyes around the place, as though looking for something. They stopped when they reached him.
Silver’s eyes looked darker in the dim light, and Flint could see the restless flames which burned between them reflected on them. It was disconcerting how one brief look from John could ignite such warmth in his chest.
He watched, silently pleased, as John apologetically withdrew from the men that surrounded him and walked towards Flint. No one followed him. Silver might have more influence over them, but he and Flint together – it was entirely something else. Silver knew it, Flint knew it, the crew knew it – and they weren’t about to disrupt whatever they had to talk about.
John circled the fire, sitting on a log in front of Flint. He had a relaxed expression on his face and an easy smile on his lips – one that Flint wasn’t used to seeing often since the events in Charles Town. He was relieved to see that Silver wasn’t completely gone, that the darkness within him hadn’t taken that from him as it had from Flint.
John raised his own bottle of rum and offered it to him when he realized Flint’s was empty. He accepted it, holding Silver’s gaze as he handed it to him.
“Are you angry at me?” Silver asked.
Flint took a sip of the bitter drink, frowning. It was a surprise to see Silver guessing something that was so far from how he actually felt.
“Why would you think that?”
“Your face isn’t extremely friendly, but then maybe it’s just your face.”
Flint chuckled briefly. He returned the bottle to John, who took a chug before putting it aside.
“I think it would make sense if you were. Honestly, this past week has been a bit frustrating because I was expecting you to lash out at me,” he said.
“I told you I am not worried about your threat. I can protect myself from you,” Flint said, shrugging.
A playful look appeared on Silver’s eyes.
“However, according to the way I see things, that doesn’t add up. There is something going on in our partnership that I feel I’m failing to grasp.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well, first, I think you just lied to me – twice. I think the only way you could not worry about my threat is if you saw me as inferior to you, and we both know we’re past that.”
It didn’t matter how much Flint trusted Silver, to see him casually reading him, as though it didn’t require any effort, was always a little uncomfortable. The part of him that wished to remain unknown nagged at him.
“Then there’s the affirmation you can protect yourself from me, which I understand,” Silver carried on, “I don’t know how to wield a sword properly, nor I’m a close match to you physically, and yet I feel like we’re close enough so that vulnerability is a factor you cannot ignore. And you are vulnerable to me.”
Flint pressed his lips, averting his eyes from Silver’s. He rubbed his hands together.
“And you are not so vulnerable to me,” he said, voicing a fact that had been worrying him since he told his story to Silver.
“No, I don’t think I am,” Silver said, “So, having all those facts lined up, I don’t see why you aren’t angry at me nor seem worried. That’s what I can’t understand.”
“Do you want me to be angry at you? I think I can arrange that”, Flint smirked, side-eyeing Silver as he watched a few of the men who were heading back to the camp.
“It just would make more sense. Don’t get me wrong, being on your good side for once is nice. But remaining on your good side after our conversation makes me think there’s something you’re not telling me,” Silver said, nodding good night to the men as they passed by them. “Apart from that, you being angry at me would make things easier for both of us.”
Flint frowned.
“Maybe you’ve had too much to drink. You’re starting to not make a lot of sense.”
Silver smiled and offered him more of his rum. Flint accepted it.
“Do you know what the men have just asked me?” he said, a spark of amusement in his eyes, “They asked me how you intend on taking Nassau back.”
“It seems like a reasonable question.”
“And I’ve told them I knew as much as they did, that I don’t have privileged information – which is the truth. Then they asked me if I could guess what your plan would be, if I could somehow know it,” Silver scoffed, shaking his head. “One of them said he thought I could think like you, as though we were one individual.”
Flint laughed hard at that. To his surprise, however, Silver’s smile soon disappeared from his face. Flint recognized the apprehension that finally surfaced on his features.
“You’ve just claimed that I am more vulnerable to you than you are to me, and yet you still feel that uneasy about our proximity.”
Silver averted his eyes from Flint’s. His next words came out in nothing but a whisper.
“I thought I had made that perfectly clear when I compared myself to your dead friends and lovers.”
Flint went silent at that comment. He felt an urge to say something that would prove John was wrong, that would reassure him that getting close to him wasn’t a bad choice. But Silver would easily see though any of those lies.
Silver found his words before he did.
“Maybe I just wanted to know you feel as unease about our partnership as I do.”
He looked up at Silver. He wasn’t expecting the next words that came out of his mouth.
“Is it me, or is it the darkness that comes with it?”
Silver looked down, locking eyes with him. He smiled slightly.
“Is there a difference?”
Flint should be expecting that. He knew it was a reasonable question, one he had posed to himself more than once. But having yet another sensitive bit of his personality laid bare before him made him retreat instantly. And Silver noticed it.
“I know you’re worried about how I perceive you, especially since we’ve grown closer. But I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that now that I know where the darkness within you comes from, I’m acutely aware it bounds everything you’ve become so intrinsically that considering you might function without it seems impossible to me at this moment.”
Flint looked at the fire, silent. He watched as the rest of the men left the bonfire in a small group. There were only he and Silver left between the shadows and the fire.
“The darkness is the part of you that I fear, the part that makes me uneasy,” Silver said after a moment, realizing Flint wasn’t saying anything. “However, I’ve never said that it is all there is to you.”
Flint could feel Silver’s eyes fixated on him, but he didn’t look up. He kept squinting at the flames. The sudden absence of conversation and laughter emphasized the silence that fell between them, broken only by the sounds of the waves crashing on the beach.
“The crew may think that,” Silver continued, pointing to where the last men had disappeared. “Billy may think that, England may think that. But I know better by now, and I feel I should have known it before. For all the loss I’ve accused you of attracting, the fact that you keep drawing people close to you is not to be ignored. That should have told me there were parts of you that were worth knowing, worth the risk of being dragged down by the dark that lives within you. And I fear I’m starting to understand what they saw in you. It terrifies me deeply.”
“It isn’t as you think,” Flint finally interrupted, looking down at his feet. “You can learn to identify it, to control it. I’ve told you that.”
Silver smirked.
“Please don’t offend me by lying to my face that you’ve got any sense of control over it.”
Flint didn’t. He looked up at Silver instead, finding his intense eyes fixated on him, waiting for him to say something.
“I would never drag you down with me,” he said.
Silver’s expression softened for a second at those words. But it soon became skeptical.
“Maybe not,” he said, “Not consciously, at least.”
“Well, what do you want from me then?” Flint finally exclaimed, “If you’re so afraid I’ll drag you down with me, and nothing I say will convince you otherwise, it seems the only solution is for you to get away from me.”
The mere sound of those words unsettled him. Flint didn’t like to consider what such divergence would do to their partnership, to the goal they and the maroons had agreed upon. And the thought of losing whatever intimacy he and Silver had gained during those previous weeks was also met with great unease.
“Yes, that would be the reasonable thing to do. However, we both know that it isn’t an option, considering the parts we need to play in this war,” Silver said, voicing Flint’s concerns, “And, to be honest, I’m not sure the war is the only reason why alienating myself from you feels like such an impossibility,” he added.
“What other reason is there?”
Silver hesitated for a moment.
“That I don’t want to.”
Flint allowed a bit of sarcasm to play in the corner of his mouth as he smiled.
“Even with me being such a bad influence.”
Silver scoffed, pushing back slightly and breaking eye contact. He contemplated the fire for a moment before saying anything.
“I’ve been thinking about some of my decisions regarding you,” he said, after a moment of silence. He kept his eyes on the flames, his voice suddenly low. “Why I couldn’t let you sacrifice yourself for us, while Billy and the rest of the crew were happy to do so; why I worried so much about you putting yourself in danger after losing Miranda; why, even as I contemplate a future in which I wield more influence over the men than you, I still desire your companionship.”
Flint frowned, absorbing what Silver was trying to tell him. There was realization in the corner of his mind, but he didn’t dare go there.
“And what have you concluded?” he asked, voice slightly caught in his throat.
Silver turned his eyes back to him.
“I found that, when it concerns you, not all of my actions come solely from a place of duty. That, as much as I can’t understand why you won’t antagonize me, I couldn’t, at first, understand some of the things I’ve done when you were involved. And it makes me wonder whether they all could have the same explanation.”
He wouldn’t, he couldn’t dare to assume John Silver loved him. Not like that.
“And what do you think that explanation is?”
There was a slight hint of suggestion in Silver’s eyes, as though he should know what the answer was. But Flint didn’t allow himself to go there. He couldn’t.
“I don’t think I fully comprehend it,” Silver finally answered, “But sometimes, I just feel like-”
He interrupted himself, raising his hand and reaching across the small distance between them. Flint felt as the rough tip of his fingers gently touched his face.
He held his breath, paralyzed as he watched John’s eyes accompanying his hand – which brushed over his skin and beard, and finally his mouth. Silver’s hand then moved to the back of Flint’s neck and pulled him up slowly till their lips pressed together in a brief kiss. John’s beard pricked his cheek, his warm breath smelled of alcohol.
When Silver let go, there was a moment of confusion and suspicion in Flint’s eyes as he looked at him, frowning. He wasn’t expecting it. For a second, he didn’t know how to react to that gentle touch. Then he raised his hand instinctively, resting it upon Silver’s chest, as to push him away.
He locked eyes with Silver again. John looked at him as though asking for permission, his eyes darker than they had been before. Maybe Flint wasn’t inherently broken, maybe he was still capable of less damaging feelings. His hand slowly closed as he grasped Silver’s shirt, pulling him down with him.
Silver landed on his knees in front of him, set between his legs. He leaned in to kiss him again and Flint opened his mouth, allowing Silver’s tongue to slide easily into it. He was more intense than Flint had imagined him to be, his skin felt hot against his as he held him.
They parted for a moment, and Flint opened his eyes to meet Silver’s face, partially illuminated by the dying fire. He raised his hand hesitantly, placing his fingers on the side of John’s neck as his thumb gently stroked his face. He felt as much as he saw when John’s lips widened in a smile.
He kissed Silver again, holding him by the back of his head, slightly pulling his long hair. They parted again, foreheads briefly touching before they pressed the side of their faces together. Flint had forgotten how it was like to be touched by flames that didn’t burn away his skin.
Flames that warmed and nurtured – that was what Silver felt like.
“I am, you know, afraid of you,” he whispered close to Silver’s ear, “I haven’t been this vulnerable to someone for a long time.”
Silver pulled back to look at him. His eyes were intense, filled with desire and a kind of adoration that made Flint smile almost involuntarily. It felt good to be loved by him.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Flint continued, “So if you want me to, if you ask that of me, I can and will pull away.”
Silver frowned, licking his lips and looking down. It felt like an eternity as Flint watched him considering that offer.
“Please, don’t”, he finally said while he pulled Flint into another kiss.
It was a moonless night on Maroon Island, and the shadows gradually engulfed the two men on the beach.
In the dark, their mouths moved together with hunger, restless like the flames that died out in front of them. And then Silver lay on his back, arching his back as mouth to mouth became mouth to flesh. Heavy breathing and wet sounds overlapped the noise of the crashing waves.
And when they brought their bodies together, there was also the rhythmic sound of flesh to flesh which didn’t took long to become frantic. Occasional moans increased in frequency, until they peaked in cries of pleasure.
Their minds were hazy and elated as Flint fell on his back beside Silver. They lay still, sounding helplessly out of breath as they looked up at the void and the stars. The ecstasy that ran through their skin slowly dissipated with the gentle warm breeze that blew from the sea.
They could see nothing more than silhouettes when they looked at each other. It was quiet in the dark, and it was considerably less lonely when someone existed in that state with you. There was freedom and there was safety to exist in such a place – where no one saw you, where judgment wouldn’t reach you. They held each other in the shadows – and they silently knew they would keep doing so for as long as they were able to.