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Vale burst into the lavish sitting room. Silver was in there- of course he was- and he was lounging- brilliantly, artistically- brazenly on one of the loveseats, his purple- mauve, braided silk, probably Spencer's- vest loose and his collar- cream shirt, silk, handmade, definitely from Bruce- unbuttoned. His skin was tan, golden, olive, bronze-
"Oh? I hadn't expected you here, detective." Vale blinked. He could feel sweat gathering under his collar (starched, gray, slim-cut from Mason's). Silver watched him languidly through yellow- honey, gold, copper, citrine- eyes.
Vale swallowed. Nearly choked on it. He hadn't been the same for weeks. Not since that night in the mountains. Not since that man- that- that- fairy- had enchanted him, poisoned him, twisted his mind.
"I know what you've done." He forced out. Breathe in. Out. He tried to ground himself- the wallpaper- dark purple, lightly etched with sprigs of lavender (that wretched flower), the bookshelves- organized alphabetically, then by height (unlike Vale's, which were hardly really organized at all), and - the man in the center of the room. Breathe in.
"My dear detective, what on Earth are you talking about?" Silver smiled, but it didn't rise all the way to his eyes. He knows. He did it on purpose. He's pulling you in. He's only going to hurt you.
"You know what I'm talking about!" Vale snapped. Silver's smile fell.
"My dear- Vale, I assure you I have no idea what you're accusing me of. I could have done any number of things." He shrugged, and his shoulders rose and fell like waves- smooth, catlike-
"Enough!" Vale cried. He felt unsteady. "You're doing it now! You've- you've- enchanted me! I know how your magic works, Silver, I've known you for years. You can't fool me." Silver's eyes widened in confusion, concern-
"Vale, I haven't used a glamour on you for weeks." Not since the mountains- not since- not since-
He felt lightheaded. Silver rose, moved toward him. No. No. This was all wrong- this was ALL going wrong. He felt pressure- hands- Silver's hands- on his shoulders. Powerless to stop the taller man, he was led to the loveseat- light blue upholstery, wood (probably oak) gilded to appear golden. He sat. There was a creak and Silver gently sat next to him.
"Vale. Please. What is going on?" There was a tone he'd never heard before in the fae's voice. Soft, fragile. He looked up. Those eyes- those yellow eyes- stared back. Breathe in.
"You've done something to me. I know you have, don't lie to me." But it felt hollow. Vale knew how to tell when people were lying. Silver.... wasn't. Suddenly, Silver leaned back. And he started to laugh. Vale could only watch, horrified, confused, as Silver's body shook with laughter.
"Vale, Vale, dear detective," Silver wiped a tear from his eye. "Are you telling me… that you think I 'enchanted' you... because you like me?" No. No. That wasn't it. It was wrong- impure, incorrect- wrong. Vale started to laugh too. But it was false. Sharp, bitter. Unkind.
"I don't like you." He rose- when had the room stopped spinning?- and began to pace. "I can't like you. You- you- seducer, you philanderer, you- I could never like you, never be like you." Damnit, why didn't Silver say something? "You take young men and you twist them- force your magic on them- it's- you're-" All of a sudden, there was pressure on his wrist. Silver had grabbed his arm- when had he stood up? Gently, he held Vale in place. Yellow eyes watched him.
"Vale... Do you think, that you are upset… because you love me? Or are you upset with yourself, because you think loving me is wrong?" That was all it took. Like a building collapsing in on itself, Vale crumpled to the floor. Weak, helpless. Silver followed him down. Vale sobbed like a newborn. He was wrong, wrong, wrong about everything. About Silver. About himself. Silver held him, gently, as if he were holding a stray cat and afraid it would bolt. His perfume- Night Jasmine no. 12, Vivian's- enveloped them like a cloud.
"Vale." He raised his head, like a child fearing chastisement, but could barely bring himself to meet Silver's gaze.
"You must think-" He began. Silver smiled. This time it reached his eyes, and Vale could see himself reflected in them, and he realized Silver was also crying.
"I think nothing. Only how hard and confusing this must have been for you."
"You- you knew?"
"I suspected. I didn't want to push too hard."
"And then I came here and-" Now he was embarrassed. Silver laughed. It was a wonderful sound, light, melodic, like the small bells that were popular in wintertime. And Vale began to laugh too. He was scared, still. Confused. But not afraid. Not of Silver. They both laughed, there, on the floor, together, surrounded by the books (sorted alphabetically AND by height, what an idea), and the loveseats (blue upholstery to match the curtains), and the wallpaper, dark purple, lightly etched with sprigs of lavender- that wonderful flower.