Silver feels his self-control being eroded rapidly.

Perhaps not eroded. It makes it sound as though it's gradual, tides sweeping microns of it away as he slowly loses his sanity. Decimated would maybe be better, a chunk of it blown into the ether each time.

The fact that he wants to punch Gold for being the entire fucking cause of his problem (again) isn't the surprising bit. He often restrains that desire. No, it's the... other things, that Silver desperately wishes he could halt, banish, stop, permanently kill to prevent him even thinking, oh, he curls his hands into fists and punches walls when he thinks those things, because it's just wrong. Late at night, he grits his teeth so hard they ache, presses his fingernails into his scalp and cursing every damn moment he's lived and breathed on this stupid planet, screams murder about that certain idiot that he so despises, prays to beings he doesn't believe exist to just stop everything, numb his mind away from all this.

It's pathetic.

Pathetic, worthless, insane, infuriating, terrifying, all those good things he feels so often nowadays.

(He swears profusely at himself, wishes he never lived, those images haunt him so, petrifyingly pervading into his life mind wants desires aggravating and causing him to spiral into madness, he's sure.)

(Gold's naked body lies over his, he can feel so much yet nothing, hot and heavy heavy heavy but a good heavy, he arches his body against Gold's and moans, long and gutteral, Gold laughed at him, huskily whispers an -are you happy Silver does that feel good?- and oh it feels so right that he's even melting, and he- despises everything!)

He wakes up, more than just his heart throbbing, and wishes he could smash his own skull in.

And Gold has the temerity to ask if he's sleeping alright.

No I am fucking not, not when you're everywhere and- he wishes he could say, but it doesn't come.

He shouldn't even know any of this stuff, he never was taught anything about this, he doesn't really know anything but he thinks the instinct just takes over.

He dreads the day where his instinct takes over in the day, and yet feels that it's perilously close, hates and wants it to come simultaneously so he can have some physical proof of it's wrongness, the rejection he'd delight in so much, the end of these cursed dreams he has.

Silver can barely look at Gold anymore, without the memories, (they are worse, flicking between them and real life) but he does so Gold won't ask. (How the fucking hell does he explain anything?)

But it's going to happen, soon, he can tell. He's tired, so tired of this, of late night awakenings, of not being able to face Gold and yet having to, of the desires. (He's afraid, even more, that those emotions transcend lust, go further to- well anyway, and privately Silver admits that he probably just needs to fuck somebody. But fucking hell, why can't he want a girl?)

He meets Gold, like always, just outside the Pokémon League building, in the afternoon when all the trainers have already gone in and the place is mostly deserted, and realises half-way through them talking (amicably, almost, isn't that just nice) that he can no longer restrain himself.

He does at least try to leave, hoping for a holiday to build his mental walls up higher than the Tin Tower.
And it doesn't really work, Gold affixing semi-innocent eyes on him (he swears there's a glint that spurs him on, wants to deny it's just his fault) and asking curiously, so Silver gives up. To hell with everything, he's not sure his half-insane exhausted mind can cope with anymore of this and he just growls fucking idiot at Gold and delights in his expression as Silver takes his shoulders and throws him at a conveniently placed tree (good, because he would have continued it Gold were vertical or horizontal), smirks at the surprise, bordering on fear and, absolving himself of the wandering, slams his lips against Gold's.

Gold, surprisingly, sheds the innocent exterior beyond a gasp, and comes alive, pressing Silver against him roughly, and it is as relieving as it is horrible, sludge of consequences and thoughts still fogging his mind even as he closes his eyes tight. Their teeth clash harshly, a grating pain up his jaw, their noses mash together uncomfortably, Gold has nails at the back of his neck with screaming shivering pain and pleasure mixing somewhere at the pit of his stomach and so much lower, pulsing in a different way to the way he hears his blood forcing it's way through the veins in his ears. He's sure he's pressing so hard on Gold's shoulders that he's melding to the shape of the tree, sweat breaks out over him next to such a hot body, his hair gets in the way and drags across his face as they move, he grinds his hips harshly without even thinking, and they both kind of moan but stifle it, occupied with dominance in their mouths, he doesn't get it at all. He can't even breathe, everything swelling over to overwhelm him with awful and weak and so damn fucking good.

But he does eventually gain something back, although he's not entirely sure what; he remains far too close to Gold, ironic golden eyes glittering in something, confusion maybe, and hisses an I hate you so much many times. He then finds the sheer embarrassment rising (did he really just snog his closest-thing-to-a best friend?) and can't even look at Gold, but closer is better because there are certain things he can hide better from the world here, and he immediately regrets everything. The location, the logistics, the why, the questions and the answers, he still doesn't know a single fucking thing, and he purely detests himself at that moment, thinks seriously about lying on a magnet train track somewhere because seriously.

He's such a fucking idiot. If there was ever a thing he should have done, it was drown himself in the sea. Fall down a cliff.
But failing that, move to the other side of the world, cut his hair, change his name, find a girlfriend and force himself to be normal, so fucking normal it would hurt.

(it doesn't even interest him, but he'd still do it. Johto holds nothing for him anymore.)

Gold must have also been going through a multitude of things in his mind, as it is several moments before Silver finds himself being flung away violently. He still doesn't look, watches the ground for any sign of mercy, a fissure opening to simply murder him. (Though knowing his luck, Gold would be waiting on the other side with so many questions)

"What was that?" Gold harshly whispers, sounding angry above all. He repeats himself, confused, and again, softer. "Why, what? I don't... You... Damn!"
Silver is not at all sure what to infer, so crosses his arms, looks into the distance. Luckily, he senses that his problem is less obvious that it feels.

"Mistake." He mutters.
"What?" Gold sounds scandalised, angry.
"A mistake. That's all it was, idiot." But his voice kind of quivers, particularly with the innate knowledge that he's not going to stop dreaming. Perhaps even more so now, he's got real evidence to base it from, it'll be even worse.

Gold stamps forward, smacks him firmly across the face, punches him hard enough that Silver has to take a step backwards to balance himself, and he only peers at Gold in confusion, temporarily eclipsing the extreme embarrassment of it all. Fury, and hurt, play across Gold's face.

"You're the idiot! That obviously fucking meant something to you!" Gold yells, no longer minding whatever audience they may or may not have. Silver feels as though his entire body, but particularly his face are on fire, burning with the ferocity of a forest blaze. He takes another step back, incriminated of no particular crime but his own stupidity this time.

"It's not my fault!" He yells back in panic, weak self-denfense trying to cover it all up. "Forget it! Forget everything!" and he runs, shamefully, not looking back or bothering to lie to himself that tears don't burn at his eyes, such is the frustration and shame and fury ripping him to shreds.

He spends a week in deep regret. Although the train tracks and the ocean seem very enticing options, Silver decides that his ultimate punishment is to live with his idiocy. He'll move, as far away and as remote as he can hope for, and he'll use the memory as fuel to prevent another such thing.

He thinks he will anyway.

His unknown prayers are somewhat answered when Gold shows up, almost sheepish, but only just allows Silver time to close the door before they relocate to the sofa.

Silver, honestly, isn't sure if it solves a damn thing in reality, but it sure solves one dilemma.
He doesn't move anywhere.

This kind of writing isn't quite what I usually write but there was a kink meme prompt for 'Gold and Silver's first kiss: make it hot and awkward'. Not entirely sure I succeeded, but I sort of liked it, and hope you do too!