forum All Is Hell That Ends With ‘Fair’(Closed ~ One-on-One ~ Rated a possible M)

Started March 12, 2020 by @Toxic_Persephone group

tune

Marcus tensed at that. He gently took Cyrus in a tight hug, running his fingers through his hair. “Drink some more water, it’ll help, love. If you do think you’re going to be sick, I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

“Thanks…” Cyrus whispered, “Yeah, um…”
He started towards the bathroom, trying to maintain any calm he had left.
He pushed his hair out of his face and leaned over the toilet.
Ugh… just let this be over already…

Marcus moved to help him, gently brushing the strands of hair from his face. “Did I scare you this morning?” He asked slowly. “Was it a nightmare?”

“N-no… it just was…” Cyrus whispered.
He coughed and gagged a bit before vomiting. There wasn’t much on his stomach in the first place, so it wasn’t much, but it was still miserable.

Marcus had to turn his head away, scrunching up his nose in a slight disgust. Despite seeing things much worse than vomit, Marcus found he quite disliked the liquid. Who didn't?

"Would you like some medicine?" He asked, moving to sit on the floor next to the other, slowly tracing lines up and down the other's arm. "Or something to help at least the hangover?"

“No, that’s okay,” Cyrus sighed, “I think I’m good. I just need… I just need a bit to recover from the panic attack. I’ll drink more water, but…”
He lowered his head.
“I’m so sorry…”
Cyrus’ hands were shaking still.

"It's okay, Cyrus. Never apologize for a panic attack. They happen." He reassured, taking one of Cyrus's shaking hands and bringing it up to his lips in a gentle kiss. "Rest and recover for as long as you want."

“Well… not exactly something I wanted you to see this early on,” Cyrus replied, leaning back up against the wall.
He wiped sweat from his forehead.
“I’ve… I’ve had pretty bad anxiety all my life, so… that was nothing new.”

“I would have eventually seen it, Cyrus. You can tell me anything.” He replied confidently. That confidence seemed to fade.

“I don’t know how you deal with it…” Marcus mumbled, pulling his knees into his chest. “I only get it bad when someone holds me down…” he admitted, rubbing at his wrists in memory of rough hands that forced him down.

He suddenly jolted, eyes going wide. “Shit I have to see Marx today… he said nine right!?”

"I don't know, I wasn't paying enough attention," Cyrus admitted, "Do what you need to prepare. I'll be alright. I mean, I usually handle this alone. One show of it to anyone in the gang, and… well… my old man isn't having any of that… Can't have a son who reflects poorly on him, I guess."
He ran a hand through Marcus' hair.
"You're going to be okay. I know it's hell, but you've been here before, you've pushed through it, and I swear to god it won't be like this forever."
Cyrus stopped for a second, frowning and rubbing his cheek.
"Shit, I still can't feel my face."

Marcus gave the other a soft hug, gently kissing his cheek. “As soon as I’m done I’m going to call you. You shouldn’t have to be alone.” He smiled reassuringly at Cyrus, nuzzling into his cheek.

“I know it won’t… I want it to pass sooner but I have to be patient. And as for your face, I don’t have much to help. There’s some GABA supplements in the cabinet. I don’t use them too often so I’m not sure how effective they’ll be. I heard they’re supposed to help.” He laughed nervously, sighing sadly as he pulled away and moved to stand. “Give me a call if you need to talk. I’ll try and pick up if I’m not… occupied.”

Cyrus gave a halfhearted smile.
"Alright. I'll be here, and I'll be okay. Please stay safe. Thanks for you know… being here."
He was terrified. He wanted to kill Marx. Cyrus barely knew the guy, but he knew all he needed to know. No one deserved this kind of abuse. No one.

Marcus grabbed Cyrus’s face and stole a big smooch, grinning as he started out the bathroom door. “I’ll be safe. There’s a spare key to this apartment in the violin book by my bed, take it. Use this place as your safe space.” He hummed, walking into his bedroom to get dressed.

He wouldn’t lie, his entire body was wracked with a deep fear. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen to him today but he knew it wouldn’t be good.

Cyrus felt a flush pass over his face.
"I appreciate it."
While Marcus was getting dressed, Cyrus cleaned himself up a bit at the sink, splashing water over his face and washing his mouth out. When he was done, he walked out, towards the bedroom.
"I mean it though. Please stay safe. Please."

He turned to look in the direction Cyrus’ voice had come in, now wearing an absolutely tattered pair of jeans and that familiar jacket. He gave the other a small smile. “Don’t worry about me, Cyrus. It’s nothing I haven’t done…” he murmured, stretching as he checked the time. “I should go so Marx doesn’t kill me.”

Cyrus nodded, any words he had left catching in his throat. He was already so worried of being left behind again.
“Bye,” he managed.
Shit. He was shaking pretty badly again.

The smaller male gave the other a sweet smile, waving as he pocketed a handgun he had pulled from a drawer in his dresser. He had many more. Marcus was always paranoid about someone breaking in to harm him. Rival gangs were terrifying sometimes especially towards him as he was the second hand man to Marx.

“You be safe too, okay? I- I really like you… I want to meet up more.” He murmured gently, blushing lightly as he turned to leave the apartment.

His phone buzzed impatiently and Marcus knew exactly who it was.

Cyrus was at a loss for words. He smiled weakly and waved to Marcus.
Once the other was gone, Cyrus went to shower. He closed his eyes and let the water wash over his face.

Marcus bit his lip, daring to look at the text he had received. The message sent chills up his spine.

’There’s another who skipped their payment, Marcy~’

(Ima do a little time skippy right here)

The ash and smoke burned his lungs; the smell of burning gas and wood made him choke.

He was aware of the sirens that wailed in the distance but didn’t quite register them as he slid down the wall to watch his work unfold.

Fire was such a beautiful thing. It licked and clawed and ate, seeking any salvation it could find in the form of destruction and devastation. It lived and breathed while managing to be something completely other than a living being.

Marcus reveled in the fact that he too was like fire, gasping and sputtering for anything to grab onto and break, destroy, redeem. It made him laugh out loud, the sound manic and gruff.

His enjoyment was cut short by a hand grabbing his arm. Marx. a pant of fear swept over Marcus, his whole body standing on edge as the gang leader drew him close.

“What a lovely job you did today~” The crooked man cooed. Marcus knew he wasn’t talking about the fire. A shudder ran through his body as Marx finally pulled away and wandered back down the alley. “Go home, Marcy. I’ll call you back when we need you.”

Cyrus spent most of the day sleeping, occasionally waking up parched. He tried to drink a lot of water to offset it, but he still felt awful. A lot of time had passed, and he still hadn’t heard back from Marcus.
He reached for his phone and typed,
Hey. Is everything okay?

Marcus only nodded, trudging down the road with a slight limp. His body felt like it had been drug through hell and in a way it had. There were plenty of new scratches, burns, and bruises. He was pretty sure his leg needed stitches, as he had cut it pretty badly on something inside the home he had just burned down. He had gotten clumsy in his hurry.

His thoughts were interrupted by a text. He opened his phone and grinned at the contact.
Yes, I’m on my way back. How was your day?

Cyrus perked up when he heard his phone buzz.
Thank god, he thought.
He started typing back.
Slept for most of the day, I ate and drank some water, and now I feel sort of alright.

Good! Rest some more I’ll be back in about five,
He replied, picking up his speed.

It took him more like ten minutes to get back to the apartment. He wobbled up the stairs and turned the key in the door, grinning as he looked around for Cyrus. “I’m back!” He called, glancing down at himself suddenly feeling slightly alarmed.

He had forgotten about the ash, soot, and blood that stained his pants and boots. He had forgotten that the place he had been cut, where the pants were torn wide open to reveal the deep cut that oozed blood.

“Ah whoops.”

Cyrus looked up from where he laid on the couch.
“W-what the fuck, man?! Did Marx do this to you?! I’ll- I’ll kill him!”
He stood up to go make sure Marcus was okay, giving all of his wounds a good look.
“Go lie down, I can help you treat your wounds,” Cyrus said soothingly, reaching for the other’s arm.

Marcus pressed a soft kiss to Cyrus’s cheek. “Only the bruises and the scratches on my sides are from him.” He murmured gently. “I’m alright. I just cut myself while on a mission.” Marcus leaned against Cyrus, closing his eyes tiredly. He smelled heavily of smoke and gasoline.

“I’m tired… my body hurts… I feel gross and violated.” He complained loudly, nuzzling into Cyrus’s neck.

“Sorry,” Cyrus murmured, “Here, let me help take care of you. Let’s clean out that cut and get it fixed up. It looks pretty nasty. And feel free to keep venting to me. I know it must be tough.”

He nodded, unable to fight the smile that bloomed across his face. “You’re so kind.” He hummed. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer. It’s been an awful day. First I thought he wasn’t going to do anything to me. I thought it was just some stupid gang thing I’d have to do. And then he-“ he paused, his voice cracking. “Long story short, I have blindfolds and ropes. And then after all that he made me go and burn down a house…” he huffed. “I always get away with my arson. The police are dumb as hell.”

“Honestly, yeah…” Cyrus trailed off.
Behind his kind eyes, if one looked closely, was seething anger. He was very terse, trying to fight back the rage that bubbled under the surface.
“Go to the bathroom and start cleaning up. I can grab some medical supplies, if you have any, and I’ll meet you there.”

“The medical stuff should be in my room, under the bed.” He murmured, smiling weakly at Cyrus. Marcus may have seemed to be put together, but there was something utterly broken in his own eyes.

His defense mechanism had already kicked in. It was a rather horrid thing. He became distant from himself, detaching his mind from the situation. He was just barely coming back.

He made his way into the bathroom and sat down on the floor, shaking gently. He rubbed at his sore wrists, rubbed raw by the ropes that bound him to the bed.

He shut his eyes, hugging his knees close to his chest. It felt awful. The smoke on his jacket and in his hair reminded him all too well that what had happened wasn’t just a fever dream.

Cyrus went to grab the supplies and some water for Marcus. He came in and sat on the bathroom floor next to him. Cyrus offered him the glass of water and began to unpack the medical supplies.
A worried look had passed over his face.
“What’s on your mind?” Cyrus asked gently.