“I’m trying hard Cyrus.” Was all he whispered, leaning into the other.
His heart felt heavier the longer he processed how much Cyrus was hurting.
He had gone through so much, his love had. It was hard to keep strong for the other, mich harder than he had originally thought.
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"You don't have to try that hard," Cyrus reassured him, "Honestly, your presence and your consideration and love alone are enough to provide me some help- some grounding, I guess I ought to say. I'm happy to have your love, but don't push yourself too hard on my account. If- if the things I say ever bother you, I don't have to say them, my love. If you ever need to remove yourself from listening to my troubles, let me know. I won't be hurt. You've got problems of your own, and the last thing I want to do is unintentionally add on to them."
He held Marcus' hands in his own and offered him a smile, even though inside, he felt like he needed to hide out somewhere so he could scream and cry- or even better, just kind of disappear. Not from Marcus. Just from all of this.
“I want to… I need to, Cyrus. For you. I’ve never had anyone like you and I-“ he paused, drawing in a deep breath.
“I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll lose you.” He felt like he was choking on the words. “I wish we could leave. I want to just leave this entire world behind and cuddle with you forever but I’m afraid. Afraid of getting hurt again, of love, of hurting you, of everything.”
"Marcus," Cyrus said, "You are not going to hurt me. You're not going to lose me. And I swear to god I would never do anything to hurt you. But being willing to give too much to me is reckless. You need to care for yourself, love. You can't possibly look after a whole other person and yourself in your state, you know? Just… be careful, because I really don't want you to get hurt."
Cyrus sat up a bit straighter and held Marcus close.
Marcus didn’t move his face. He kept it safely tucked away in the crook of Cyrus’s neck.
“I won’t get hurt. I just want to take care of you. My stuff doesn’t matter.” He huffed, his arms wrapping tighter around the other. “I won’t give too much, I promise. I’ll keep myself safe so I can be with you. What’s the point of protecting you if I’m not around to love you?”
"As long as you keep yourself safe," Cyrus said, "However, Ima need you to back up there. Your problems matter. Quite a lot, actually. And if they're not taken care of, or at least addressed at some point, well… that's my problem, too. Sorry, Marcus. You're stuck with me."
His voice grew a little playful again at the end, regaining some of the warmth it had before. Now that Marcus seemed down, Cyrus was trying to push out his "everything is fine" facade to comfort him. That was his job, since it was his fault for acting so gloomy and nervous and making Marcus feel like this in the first place.
“Oh no! I’m stuck with the most handsome, kind hearted, protective, loving, amazing person ever! Whatever shall I do?” He teased in an attempt to lighten the mood and change the subject.
He hated turning things towards his own problems but sometimes he couldn’t help it.
So he’d distract.
“I’m glad I’m stuck with you, you dork.”
Cyrus laughed- but this time it was much more genuine. A flush spread across his cheeks.
"I'm glad too," he said, "But I'm absolutely fucking serious when I say I'm here to listen to your problems. That's not just lip service. Like I said, you don't have to bring things up today, or even tomorrow. It's just a matter of when you feel okay doing so."
He stroked Marcus' hair.
"I love you, and I never want to see that beautiful smile of yours fade away. I want to hear your laughter and sounds of happiness because they're music to my ears. And I want it to be real. I don't want anything buried inside taking that from you."
Marcus pulled away to look Cyrus in the eye. He beamed happily at the other and leaned into the soothing touch.
“I love you too, Cy. Very much. I feel so loved when I’m with you, you make me feel good and happy and hopeful.” The ginger pressed a soft kiss to his loves nose, blinking away happy tears that threatened to fall. “God please never leave… you’re my perfect half…”
"Hopeful…" Cyrus echoed pensively, before snapping out of his thoughts. "Of course. I have no reason to leave you. You make me feel needed and loved."
He swallowed.
"Marcus, we need to come up with a plan to get out of this. I think it's time for us to break free."
“That’s ‘cause you are needed and loved. Very much.” Marcus replied firmly as he ran his fingers through the other’s hair. It was a thanks for the earlier touch.
“A plan… we do.” He whispered softly, sitting back slightly.
A course of action was the best solution to their issue. However killing off both a gang leader and Cyrus’s father didn’t seem to sit right with Marcus. Killing wasn’t for him. He refused to kill. Always had.
It was the only virtue he refused to give up to Marx. No one could make him kill anything.
But running was an even worse idea.
Marx would hunt his ‘precious toy’ down and drag him back in chains. Back to the dingy basement, chained and cuffed off that awful hook that didn’t allow him to sit or lay down; back to the violating touches and violent actions performed by Marx.
He couldn’t do that.
Though the words tasted bitter at the back of his throat, Cyrus said, "I know how to kill people, and if I have to take one life to save many- well… I'll get over it."
He scowled.
"Hell, I even fantasize about killing my old man sometimes. And more recently, I've had some of the same thoughts about Marx… If I must do the dirty work in order to save you- to save us- then I will, gladly."
Cyrus sighed. He hated those bloody thoughts. Was he just another killer? Had it been written into him like a line in an instructions manual at this point? He tried to convince himself it was warranted.
“No!” Marcus shouted suddenly, he did a double take and curled in on himself, ashamed he had yelled.
“N-no, we don’t need to… I don’t want you killing anyone. Not anymore. It would be bad if we get caught. They'd send us straight to prison. It’d be harder to be together there.” He murmured, pressing his forehead against Cyrus’s.
“But… there are rival gangs. And people willing to kill Marx and his followers any chance they get. A tip from ‘Marx’s toy’ would be looked into…”
Cyrus drew back, upset that he’d even brought up the topic in the first place.
“S-sorry…” he murmured, “We should try other things first, but just know what I’m capable of, should it come to it. I’m an expert at covering my tracks too.”
Cyrus shifted uncomfortably.
“But you’re right, we should probably get someone else to do it, yeah?”
Cyrus dug his fingernails into his pant leg, feeling immensely frustrated as he thought over the murder of his father again. It would feel so satisfying… but if Marcus thought it was a bad idea…
Marcus took the other’s hands in his, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles. “I’m sorry I yelled… I know you’re capable. You do a good job. But I- I don’t want it to go wrong. I can’t bare to lose you. What if he gets to you first?”
Marcus took a deep breath in, trying to steady the panic he felt rising in his chest. “But I also know how much you want to do it… to get rid of your father yourself. If that is what you want then I won’t do anything to stop you, just please be careful, alright? I’m never going to tell you what to do, the choice is always yours but I will voice my thoughts on the matter.”
Cyrus frowned. "I mean… yeah… but what difference does it make really whether I do it or someone else does it? I probably shouldn't, it's just… well…"
He let out a heavy sigh.
"I harbor so much anger and resentment, it's hard to not want to take it all out on him. I don't really get to show it in other ways. I'm so torn between dying to kill that old man and going with what you and what logic say: I'm an obvious suspect, and there are so many other risks with me carrying out the kill myself."
“There are a lot of risks. I’m afraid of those too. I’m a coward, I know. I fear a lot. I run from a lot. I miss a lot. Bit this I know for a fact will be something that goes bad if you do it. I don’t want that.”
Marcus cupped Cyrus’s face again, studying the handsome features etched with tiredness and conflict. Cyrus had always been attractive to him, but up close his handsome features were even more defined, it just hit differently for Marcus.
“We’ll get out of this. I promise.”
"R-right," Cyrus said, "I love you a lot. I don't want to lose you, but I also can't bear to see you in pain any longer. And if we don't act soon… well… we're going to have another casualty on our hands. I worry about him, you know… Pollux is tough, but it's hard to get out of the sights of one of these gangs, especially once they put a target on you."
“No one escapes the gangs either… I’ve never seen anyone who has. Marx doesn’t show mercy. He kills them if they don’t give him what he wants…” Marcus murmured, shuddering.
“I don’t want Pollux dead. He’s someone special to you.”
"Yeah…" Cyrus sighed, "I don't either. I'm afraid if I don't act soon, the old man will send someone else to make the kill. He'll be dead, and I'll be punished. It's a bad situation all around. So I mean, even if we don't directly kill these guys, we really do need a plan, and I'm struggling so hard to come up with anything useful."
Marcus groaned lightly, holding his head. “This is so hard… why did I ever agree to join this hell-forsaken gang?!“ he growled, whimpering softly. “I just want to be free of it now… with you… with everyone okay. I don’t want to do anything else.”
Cyrus shifted a little and cupped a hand over Marcus' cheek.
"I agree completely," he said, "but sadly… sadly we'll have to do a hell of a lot to get there."
Marcus leaned into the comforting touch, frowning lightly. He turned his head to press a kiss to Cyrus’s palm, his eyes glittering with a love for the other male. “I-if this doesn’t go well… I want you to know that I love you, Cy.”
“I know. I love you too,” Cyrus murmured, “But I believe that we can come up with a scheme. I truly do. I may not seem it, but I’m very good at coming up with plans of attack and the like. It’s just taken a lot of courage to get to this point.”
Marcus nodded his head very gently, carefully sliding closer to Cyrus. “I trust you. I know you’re good at that.” He curled up next to Cyrus and laid his head on the other’s shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh.
“Once we’re free of all this I want to take you out on a real date. We could go all out and travel to the coast or something, go see the mountains or the ocean… together.” Traveling would mean a lot to Marcus. He had only ever known the city they were in.
"I would love that," Cyrus said, "So we will, once we can."
He smiled and stroked the other's hair.
"We're going to do this. We're absolutely going to. We have to."
Marcus returned Cyrus’s smile, stealing a quick kiss. “We’re going to do it, yes. There’s no other way. Just you and me, together.”
He glanced up and bit his lip, chuckling nervously. “Sh-should I go get our food…?”
"I'd appreciate it," Cyrus said, "We can cuddle more once you get back."
He smiled again, trying to mask the fact that his thoughts were absolutely racing still.
It has to be okay… it has to be… and if not, I guess I'll die…
"Love you."
He smiled warmly at his love and nodded gently. “Cuddling after, yes!” He slowly untangled himself from Cyrus, standing with a soft yawn. He really didn’t want to leave the other male but he made himself, walking to the kitchen.
“I love you too, Cy.”
It took him only a few moments to put their food on a single plate and bring it back. He sat down next to Cyrus and offered the plate, stealing a bite right away with a wink. “Here, have a few. It’ll be good for you to eat.”
"Thanks, love," Cyrus said, taking a pizza roll and biting into it.
He nuzzled up against Marcus, taking in his warmth.
"You're right, though. I'll probably feel better once I get some food in my system. It usually helps some."