It was starting to become more obvious that Lighter was drunk off his ass. He downed another glass, making a face when it burned on its way down. At this point he was an open book about his life. He’d spill anything asked of him.
“To end it…” his face contorted as he rubbed at his arms through his sleeves. “The burning and cutting makes you feel alive. My fire reminds me I’m living still. Skin burns so strangely… almost melts like goo when it gets hot enough.” He snickered at the morbid thought. “And as for ending it, I’ve almost done it a few times. I’d want to free fall before I die, jumping from a building would be perfect. There’s something so serene standing up there with one foot over the edge, letting the wind cool your fears and doubts.”
Cyrus shook his head.
"I don't think I could do it to myself, but if… I wouldn't mind if…"
He trailed off softly.
"I don't know. Somewhere inside is the scratching of hope at the back of my mind… Maybe I'll get out of it…"
Lighter stared at Cyrus with bleary eyes for a long time. There was something warm and understanding behind the cold front he usually put up. “We all hope we’ll get out it. Maybe we will…” he pushed away his empty glass, deciding he shouldn’t have anymore as the world was beginning to spin.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to escape…? We could change our names, dye our hair, get a fake passport and move to Europe.” He seemed to relax some, lowering himself onto the counter. “Why don’t we just run away?”
"Mmm… Cyrus sighed, silently musing for a few moments.
He was still too conscious, too sad. He took another drink, and another… He was a big guy. It usually took a lot.
"Could we?" he asked, a slight tone of hope in his voice.
Lighter flashed a cheeky grin. “You could. I’m sure we could fake a death.” He snickered lightly, stretching out his legs under the bar. “Me? No. Marx would hunt me down. He’s already told me if I try to run away again he’d chain me to the bed. I don’t doubt him. He would do such a thing.”
"I could probably take that little bitch in a fight," Cyrus muttered, holding his glass to his lips, "Then again… there are a lot of people I could've fought but haven't."
How many drinks had that been? 6? 7? Maybe more at this point. He didn't particularly care.
“Tch. You’d lose. He’s a sadistic psychopath.” Lighter slurred, rubbing at his side. “I’ve never been one for the rough sex, you know. I like the more intimate slow kind. Marx, he enjoys inflicting pain. He bites…” a shudder ran through the smaller male’s shoulders. “And when he fights he aims to maim first. He won’t kill you until you’re begging for death.”
"Disgusting…"
Cyrus tried to put down his glass, but it tilted a bit, and he sloshed some of the whiskey onto the table.
"Shit!"
He tried to hold eye contact with Lighter. "I wonder how he'd like being roughed up like he does to you."
“Bastard would get whats coming to him.” He snickered at the mess, swiping a rag from the other side of the bar and attempting to wipe up the mess. “I’d love to see his face when the tables are turned.” But you’re too scared to do anything.
"Who am I kidding? I can't even face my own father…" Cyrus said.
He fumbled for his glass and finished what he had.
"Mm… should I get another one?" he asked, not sure whether to continue drinking or not, "On the one hand, I'd still like to be able to talk to you like this. On the other- well… getting more wasted doesn't sound so bad."
Lighter nodded gently, he understood the powerless feeling.
“Maybe. If you’d like to keep talking and get drunk I have more bottles at my apartment.” He offered, looking more for company than anything else. He quite liked talking with Cyrus, he decided. Cyrus understood and didn’t push away.
"Oh, sure. If that's alright," Cyrus said.
He pulled out his wallet and gave some cash to the bartender as he passed by.
"I quite appreciate the company," he continued.
Lighter grinned, helping pay for the drinks. He nodded to the bar tender and stumbled to his feet. “‘S not too far.” He hummed, trying hard to hide the happiness that came with having someone to talk to. “I do too. Company is nice.”
“Alright, let’s go then,” Cyrus agreed.
He got up and clumsily pushed his chair aside.
He stumbled forwards.
“Hah. I feel nauseous as hell. Think I took it a little too-“ He hiccuped. “A little too fast.”
Lighter snickered again, wrapping his arm around Cyrus’s neck as well as he could with the height difference. “I feel great!” He slurred, giving the other a playful wink. “My world is spinning.”
Cyrus giggled softly at the other’s touch and confidence.
“Heh. A couple more and I might feel great too.”
He found his arm around Lighter’s waist.
Lighter gasped in surprise at the arms around his waist but didn’t shy away from it. If anything he drew closer. It was hard to tell if the flush on his face was from the alcohol or from the close contact with Cyrus.
He led them outside, grinning sheepishly as he stumbled slightly. “Are you trying to be a flirt~” he teased.
"Huh?" Cyrus asked, actually genuinely clueless.
His head was starting to fog over a lot.
"I… uh… I dunno," he slurred.
Lighter was pretty soft and comfy. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they just laid in his home and cuddled. They probably both needed it.
Lighter laughed, shaking his head. “I’m kidding with you, Cyrus.” He pressed his cheek against the other’s shoulder, sighing deeply. It wouldn’t be bad to just cuddle… Lighter himself was considering it.
He fell into deep thought, hardly realizing when he had stopped in front of a dingy apartment building. He pushed the heavy main doors open, flashing a grin at the people who sat in the lobby. Those few that knew Lighter personally gave him a look. It wasn’t the first time he had invited someone over. They were skeptical of his actions, knowing how heavy a drunkard he was.
Once they had climbed two flights of stairs they came to a door labeled as C7. Lighter struggled with a key, his drunken eyes too wacky to see straight. Eventually it was opened to a tiny living space, two doors across from the main. One was open, revealing a small bathroom. The other could only be the bedroom. The kitchen and front room were one, only separated by a small island. “Welcome to the shithole.”
"Looks cozy enough to me," Cyrus replied softly.
He was stumbling. Barely made it up the stairs stumbling. First thing he did when he walked into the apartment was crash on the couch face-first. He motioned for Lighter to come over.
Lighter let out a barking laugh, moving to the form of Cyrus on the couch. “Comfortable?” He asked, moving to sit gingerly on the arm rest. “What alcohol do you prefer. I’ve got a lot.”
"Doesn't matter. Surprise me," Cyrus answered, lifting his head to look over at Lighter.
Lighter flashed him a playful grin, slipping onto the couch. “This might be a weird question but… would you wanna… maybe…” he fell silent, too afraid to continue. He hadn’t ever been able to ask for just the soft stuff. He wanted to be held. Something clicked in his head and he suddenly panicked.
“D-Dont think I just invited you over for a one-night-stand cuz I didn’t! I just like your company and you seem cool and I’m just a bit touch deprived! All I wanted to do was cuddle!”
Cyrus felt a chill go through his body.
"Wait… seriously…?" he murmured.
He lazily traced a hand over Lighter's leg.
"I mean… I'm here for the same reason you are, and like… This… this doesn't have to be our last time together if things go well. I'm not that far away."
He tilted his head.
"We're not too drunk to do this, are we?" he chuckled.
The hand sent a wave of excitement down Lighters spine. He slowly lowered himself onto the couch next to Cyrus, wrapping a hesitant arm around his neck. “I don’t think we’re too drunk… I can think rationally. At least I think I can. I’m sober enough to know I liked it when you touched me.” He murmured. “This isn’t going too fast is it?”
"I can think. Maybe not perfectly rationally, but uh…" Cyrus laughed, "I liked you when I was sober, so I'll trust that. Can we- can we move slowly? We'll get there eventually."
He leaned into Lighter's arms, brushing a hand over his arm lightly.
The soft nod in reply felt oddly weak. Lighter was shaking more than he could process, his hands curling into slight fists in an attempt to calm himself. Cyrus felt kinder, softer than Marx. Maybe he’d be gentle, let Lighter tell him if it went too far. Maybe he-
“Slowly…?” He asked gently, blinking his eyes a few times. “Th-thats perfect. Thank you. Slowly.” He pressed his forehead against Cyrus’s chest, inhaling deeply.
Marx will be jealous.
He pushed the thought away. Marx was tomorrow’s problem. Tonight he could let himself relax a little.
Cyrus worked his fingers into Lighter’s hair.
“Are you sure…? It won’t get any… backlash?” he questioned, “And you’re shaky. Can I get you some water or something?”
Cyrus moved, prepared to get up, but for the moment, he kept Lighter’s head to his chest.
Lighter relaxed a tad bit after he realized Cyrus’s fingers were being gentle.
“There won’t be backlash if he doesn’t know.” He whispered, suddenly clinging onto Cyrus as he tried to leave. “No! I’ll be alright, just, please stay for a little bit. The shakes will go away.”
“Okay, I mean… nerves are to be expected,” Cyrus sighed, breathing softly into Lighter’s hair.
“If you’re sure, we can keep going.”
He stroked through his hair some more, then planted a kiss on his forehead.
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