“Hey, hey, Cy.” Marcus cooed, cupping the other’s face. “It’s okay. Focus on me okay? I’m here for you, you can tell me what’s wrong.” He murmured, rubbing his thumbs across Cyrus’s cheeks.
“Are you nervous?” He asked softly, running his fingers through Cyrus’s hair.
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"Among other things, yes," Cyrus replied.
He gazed upon Marcus' face, his expression incredibly dull, but not exactly tired. His eyes wandered, and he had trouble actually focusing on the other's eyes. Cyrus took a few slow, deep breaths, counting them off in his head.
"Sometimes everything suddenly feels like it's dropped on me, you know? Like I… I have all these little worries, and I push them aside, and now they've all bubbled up to the surface. It makes me feel sick and scared, and after all these years, I still can't figure out how to help myself when I get like this."
“D-do you have anxiety or depression?” Marcus asked slowly, carefully. “I’m sorry if it’s too personal, but it sounds like anxiety or depression.” Marcus slowly sat up, running his fingers through Cyrus’s hair.
“It’s okay to feel scared or stressed but it feels worse than usual than you’re allowed to get help.”
"Oh… well…" Cyrus started, "Yeah… I've had really bad anxiety my whole life, and I go through small depressive episodes every now and again…"
Cyrus' hands were folded together nervously. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
"I think I would really benefit from medication or therapy, but I can't really talk about my problems in therapy because… illegal… and- and… I don't really have a viable way to get medicine. So I've had to cope, and I'm not doing a great job."
“I can get you some antidepressants… they won’t be legal either but I can get them.” Marcus murmured gently, kissing his cheek. “I have some, but I’m scared they might not be enough or the wrong type for you.” He rubbed Cyrus’s back softly. “You can use me for some release too. I’ll listen if you need to talk or give you hugs if you feel stressed or scared.”
"Oh my god. Bless you, Marcus…" Cyrus sighed, "I would really appreciate that, if you're able."
He tilted his head a bit.
"But I've always wondered if I'd be… different? Just because mental illness is my normal, would I act or feel like a different person?" he pondered.
Cyrus pressed his face into Marcus' shoulder.
"W-would you hold me?"
“No problem. Anything for you. I’ve taken them for a bit… quit a little while ago but I don’t really know why I quit. They really helped me, Cyrus. I felt much better. The only difference I noticed was I became spacey every now and then. And I got tired faster. But that was it.”
He wrapped his arms around Cyrus and held him close to his chest, kissing his head. “Of course I’ll hold you. I want to help you.”
Cyrus was trembling, just barely, where Marcus held him in his arms.
"Okay… I'll try that, then…" he whispered, "The idea makes me nervous, but what's the worst that could happen, yeah?"
He found himself counting as he took more deep breaths. Although unable to relax completely, Cyrus wasn't feeling any worse.
“It’ll be alright. There’s a lot of different types of antidepressants, you know. I’ve tried three or four to find the one that works best for me.” Marcus promised, kissing Cyrus’s head again.
“How are you feeling?” He asked softly, rubbing circles into Cyrus’s back.
"Really fucking tense…" he replied, "but your presence helps some. I'm really worried about this whole situation, you know? I didn't want to bring any of it up, but well… I've pushed it aside, and that wasn't great."
Cyrus kept his hands tucked close to his own body, his posture oddly closed off. Yet, he let Marcus keep touching him. That was reassuring at least.
"Today's been rough, and it's brought to the surface a lot of the things I was already concerned about. I might sound ridiculous, but I'm worried that Marx and my old man are perhaps conspiring against me to some degree. But that's the least of my worries when-"
Cyrus shuddered at the image that passed through his mind: Pollux, lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. There was no doubt he'd put up a fight.
"When I'm being asked to kill someone I care about," Cyrus finished.
Marcus listened quietly, letting Cyrus finish before he replied. “Marx is close with your father… I won’t deny that.” He murmured softly.
“But I don’t think they’re working together to get at you. If they were, I would know. Marx tells me everything. I’m the one he confides in.”
He kissed Cyrus softly.
“I know… but I will make sure you two will be safe and unharmed. I swear on my life that I will save him for you.”
“I know you’ll try, but the future is so uncertain,” Cyrus sighed, “And… as long as Marx isn’t in on it too. I already know my father is out to toy with me. I’m surprised I haven’t reached my breaking point…”
Cyrus held Marcus’ hand and squeezed it tighter as he tried to push aside the thoughts clawing at his mind. He didn’t know why it suddenly came to mind, but he remembered finding his brother dead, and what a gruesome sight that had been.
Cyrus let out a small choking noise. His throat felt tight.
“It’s not fair that you have to go through this. You’re a good person, Cyrus. You’ve just been forced into bad things.” He gave Cyrus’s hand a tight squeeze back to let the other know he was here for him.
“Shh it’s alright, Cy. I’ll help you through this.” He cooed softly, playing with Cyrus’s hair.
Cyrus nodded, biting his lip.
"I… It's like I want to die, but not really…" he whispered, "It's so much… so, so much… I'm sorry to burden you… Thanks for trying to help."
He leaned into Marcus' touch a bit more.
"I-I'm thinking about my brother right now, and h-how he died… In fact, death is all I can think about right now."
"You're not burdening me… You're perfectly okay." Marcus cooed, rubbing the other's back soothingly.
"Death… Cyrus. that's scaring me…" He pushed his face into Cyrus's hair, biting his lip. "You can tell me everything… but I'm scared for you, love. You're my everything."
"S-sorry… I should keep those thoughts to myself…" he whispered, "They're just… thoughts…"
His hands dug into Marcus' sides. He was still on and off struggling to steady his breathing.
"I won't do anything too rash, if that's what's scaring you," he promised.
"No no, they're not just thoughts… I'm worried about you, Cyrus. I care. You're allowed to share your emotions and feelings." He murmured, pressing soft kisses to the other's face.
"Please, don't do anything rash… I don't want to lose you…"
"I-I know," Cyrus sighed, "I don't want to lose you either."
He gently accepted the kisses, turning his face to look into Marcus' eyes.
"Marcus, we need a better plan for- oh shit, I should probably text Pollux, shouldn't I?"
Cyrus reached into his pocket for his phone. He had a few messages and frowned. God, he didn't want to talk to anyone right now.
He leaned into the other and whimpered softly. "Stay with me, okay…?" he murmured.
"For…?" He asked, tilting his head and only growing more confused as Cyrus pulled his phone out.
"Is something wrong?"
Cyrus ran a hand through Marcus' hair. "Of course, I-"
"Oh, I just wanted to check in, see if he's contacted (I'm so sorry, I forgot the dude's name) yet. Also like… actually check in on his health, because he wasn't going to tell me everything he was feeling with you there."
He sighed.
"I think I also have a couple of messages from the old man, but… I'd rather not think about that right now. I'm willing to bet Marx said something to him about or little… run-in, and he's not going to be happy."
(Thomas is his name. You're okay! Iforget too ahaha)
Marcus remained silent, listening to the beat of Cyrus's heart to steady his nerves. He was starting to fear again. He hated feeling like that… He wouldn't let himself feel that way.
"He looked awful… make sure he rests." Marcus murmured, his voice muffled as he rolled into Cyrus. "As for your old man, I'm going to beat his ass if he tries to harm you anymore… Marx probably did tell him…"
"Yeah, he was having an asthma attack while we were over, I think," Cyrus replied, "It's not like he was about to say anything about it though, especially with you around. He'll probably be okay, as long as it doesn't get any worse… and he goes to the damn hospital if he needs it."
He rubbed the back of his head, took a breath, and opened the messages. Cyrus skimmed his dad's scathing messages, and found himself simply rolling his eyes. Sure, he'd be in for a beating when he showed his face again, but it was almost routine by now.
He scrolled to the last message.
"Pollux messaged me first," he said, "About Thomas. They're already speaking, apparently."
“Oh. Asthma…? My brother has asthma.” Marcus noted, letting himself relax against Cyrus as he took in the other’s presence. The fear began to slowly ebb away, leaving Marcus feeling tired again.
“Oh good. Thomas will help him out. He’s a decent guy. He hates Marx as much as I do so I respect him for that. We don’t really get along though…” The ginger pulled away from the other and sat up, stretching out his arms as he looked around the plain bedroom he sat in.
“We’ll fix this…”
"We will," Cyrus agreed, "It'll take a lot, but we will."
His eyes scanned Marcus carefully.
"How are you faring? I don't feel like I've really asked you today, even though you've been through as much as I have."
Marcus shrugged at the question, looking down at the bed. “I’m still alive so I guess I’m fine.” He rubbed at his face, sighing sadly. “It’s a lot… my head hurts from when Marx grabbed me, I think he might have scratched me. I’m a little shaken up but I’ve been through worse. I’ll be alright.”
"That doesn't make it suck any less," Cyrus sighed, gritting his teeth at the thought of Marx touching him like that.
He was once again seething with anger underneath the surface. Jail would've been worth killing that bastard. Maybe he should've just done it.
"Anything I can do for you?"
Marcus rubbed at the back of his head, looking up at the other. “You’ve done a lot for me already. I’m alright, love.” He reassured, running his fingers along Cyrus’s arm.
“You’re so sweet, Cy. Is there anything that I can do for you? I want to help you too.”
“No, not at the moment,” Cyrus said, trying to smile a bit, “but thanks.”
He rested his hand over where Marcus touched his arm.
“So uh… what else do you want to do to unwind? I’m pretty sure we both need it.”
“Unwind…?” He leaned over to steal a kiss, smiling softly. “That depends, do you have something in mind~?” He giggled, running his fingers through Cyrus’s hair.
“Just no alcohol this time,” Cyrus said, nuzzling up to Marcus’ hand.
He took his hand to hold and planted a few tiny kisses over his knuckles.
“Besides, I asked you.”