.jpg)
(Sorry for not replying. I hadn't really been in the headspace, and then my grandfather just passed away. Haven't forgotten about this at all, might just be slow to reply.)
"Oh, of course," Cyrus agreed, "I want the same."
He scooted closer to Marcus, ready to help him in any way he might need it, whether it be with eating. Or just love.
(You’re perfectly alright. Take your time, okay? Your health and life is more important. If you need to take a long break in order to heal and grieve, then do so. It’s healthy to feel and grieve, too! If you need anything I’m always open.)
Marcus leaned against Cyrus’s side and lifted his head to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. “Now we can recover together.” He mused, letting out a soft laugh. “Long hours just resting.”
The ginger lifted the bowl to his lips, opting for an easier way to eat with only one functioning hand. He watched Cyrus out of the corner of his eye as he did so, wondering if he would begin eating too.
(Thanks, I appreciate it. I think I'm feeling a bit better than before, but who knows? A lot of it was that he was dying for a few days before he actually passed, and the waiting was kind of horrible. Hopefully the funeral Wednesday will help me get some closure and take out the initial sting, but we'll see. I mean, I guess I've been sort of anticipating it for a while. He was 90 years old and not in the best shape. But of course, that doesn't mean I'm not sad.)
Cyrus started eating a spring roll, making sure he had one free hand for now, in case Marcus suddenly needed any help.
"Yeah, this isn't how I would've liked it to happen, but we sure do get a while to rest."
Pollux cleared his throat a bit.
"So," he said, "What happens to gang leadership? Are you two really going to be okay?"
Cyrus nodded.
"Nina's in charge. We have an agreement. And, Marcus…" He glanced to his boyfriend. "He could probably explain it better than I could."
(The funeral might help to get some closure on it all. But yeah, that waiting stage is awful. I understand it completely. And you can still be sad even if it was kinda expected. I’m sorry to hear he’s gone. I hope you’re doing well.)
Marcus shifted slightly, sighing deeply at the question.
“Technically I’m the leader now. But I have yet to tell the rest of the gang about Marx’s death. I’m not entirely out of the water yet either… I’m sure some people will leave, finally escape the gang. I’ll let them. I know it’s a trap. Others might try to kill me to take the top spot. That’s less likely. No one really wants to run Marx’s gang. I’d disband it if I wasn’t so worried about the new kids who have nowhere else to go. I already own the gang house and all, as Marx made me sign for it and use his assets and stuff.” He explained, looking a little sick.
(I was honestly doing really rough for a few days there, but I seem to be doing better now. Not completely back to my usual self, but definitely better.)
"I'm sure Nina would be more than happy to ally with you," Cyrus replied, "after all, you guys have resources she probably wants, and vice versa. Our two gangs have always lived in a sort of symbiosis."
Pollux frowned. "So you're not completely out of it, huh?"
"Maybe eventually," Cyrus said, "but no, not completely."
(That’s good to hear! Stay safe and healthy, alright? Take the time you need, okay?)
“Having Nina might be really good… We could use her resources too. Just to keep the place in check.” He murmured, letting himself think it over for a moment.
Marcus shook his head at Pollux’s question, his expression souring quickly. “No. Not yet. It’ll take a lot to be free from this lifestyle and even then you end up in prison.”
"Yeah, agreed," Cyrus said.
He fell a lot quieter at the mention of prison.
"Marcus could probably get out one day, but I'd be in for life and then some."
Pollux sighed. He regretted asking. Should've known that would be the answer.
"Anyhow," he said, "You two are staying the night here. That's non-negotiable. It's safest here, and with your injuries, I'd like to make sure you leave able to manage the pain and everything."
"You don't have to do that, you know."
"It's late. I'm sure as hell nor kicking you out. You two can share the bed. I'll be fine in here."
Marcus nodded along silently, his face falling. He couldn’t live a life without Cyrus at the moment. He loved his boyfriend to death and back.
He was grateful when Pollux changed the subject, looking up at the man with a thankful expression.
“Thank you so much Pollux. But it’s alright! You can keep your bed… I don’t want to take it from you.”
"Oh, well I figured there's room for two on the bed, but only one on the couch," he replied, "And I promise I won't be uncomfortable, at least. Far from it."
Cyrus shrugged. "I would protest too, but it just sounds like the way to go."
He continued to eat what was on his plate.
Marcus sighed softly. It did seem like the way to go. He would have to accept it for the time being. "I guess you're right. Thank you Pollux. You've done too much already." Marcus turned back to his soup and sipped at it slowly. His stomach was still lurching uncomfortably but the warmth and liquid state of the food was enough to help settle the majority of the nausea. That didn't mean Marcus felt any better. He was feeling worse by now, regretting only taking a small portion of pain killers just barely and not earlier. His whole arm was starting to scream in pain and he could hardly stand it.
"It's really the least I can do," he replied, "It would be cruel to just kick you out and expect you to deal with everything while both of you are hurt."
"But thanks nonetheless. We appreciate it."
He let out a sigh.
"So yeah, I probably won't be back at work for another week or so, just because I'm in a kind of delicate state and being on my feet all day won't do me any good. Not sure what I'll do in the meantime, but if you two need anything, I'll be here."
"Thank you Pollux. We'll let you know if we do need anything. The same will go back towards you once me and Cyrus are feeling back up to shape." Marcus promised, setting the bowl of soup down and snuggling into the side of Cyrus's side with a soft groan.
"I'd just like to rest… Everything hurts…" He huffed.
"You can take a little more medicine than you did," Pollux replied, "I also have ice packs, heating pads, that sort of thing to take the edge off."
He eyed Cyrus. "So you never told me exactly what kind of injuries you're dealing with. Are they doing okay?"
"Yeah, I uh… yeah, they're actually getting a lot better. I got shot in the side and took a pretty good stab wound to the leg, but Marcus patched me up well."
The other frowned a bit.
"You're lucky, huh? You probably should've gone to the hospital. But sounds like Marcus knew what he was doing."
"Oh, probably. It was rough, to say the least. But then again, you know why we can't do that."
"Right, right… Do you guys have designated medics in the gang and all that? For when things go wrong?"
"Not really, no. Most of us have survival skills like you wouldn't believe, and a few independently learn first aid."
Pollux seemed lost in thought for moments before saying, "I think you should help make that happen. It won't do to have guys like you dying in the streets. Criminals or not, it's fucked up."
Marcus let out a soft sound to let the other know he acknowledged the offer. He was still hesitant about the medicine but as the pain deepened into his very bones and he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes he decided it was best to dull the pain as much as he could.
He sat up, reaching for the medicine and gently tapping it against Cyrus's hand to get him to help. He listened at the same time, thinking about their options and what the two could do in their situation. The designated medics idea was a really good one… Marcus could really see the benefit to it. The only issue was finding people who had gone through medical school and were still low enough to join a gang. That would be hard. Those who were most accessible and willing were probably those who had ended up doing something bad with their medical license and having it revoked… Marcus didn't want more injuries and issues because someone was careless with their work… but that was a bit hypocritical to say with what he did…
"Nobody should be dying of anything other than old age and sickness…" Marcus blurted out, scowling weakly. "Nobody should have to join a gang to survive either. It was the only choice I had with my father being such an abusive asshole. It was either stay and be killed by beating or join Marx and die by defending my group. Which of those sounds less cowardly? You can probably guess which sounded better to me. The only reason I'm in this situation is because of my shitty father and people like Marx who enjoy others pain." He ranted, the tears in his eyes falling freely from the mix of anger and pain. He turned to push his face against Cyrus and sob, getting out a few incoherent sentences about 'how much his hand hurt' and 'how angry he was at life'.
Cyrus took the pill bottle and offered two more. That was about as much as he'd taken at once, in times when he was really in pain.
"I agree," Pollux sighed, "I agree wholeheartedly. I've watched so many people die who didn't have to. Not just from violence, but from preventable illness. I didn't grow up with the kind of violence you guys did, but by no means has my life ever been easy."
He let out a sigh, listening intently to Marcus recounting how he'd gotten into the gang. Yet he found the burst of emotion a bit offputting. He always did.
Cyrus cradled his head a bit, murmuring soothing words.
"It's going to be okay, hold me tightly as you need. Cry it out if you need to."
He let out a shuddering breath, a little startled by Marcus' state.
Pollux had fallen silent. He didn't know what to do. They definitely would've given him opiates in the hospital, but that wasn't something he had, nor was it something Marcus was comfortable with. As for the emotional suffering, he never understood it. Never. And he felt bad for it. So he kept quiet, knowing saying anything besides offering tangible help would just make things worse.
Marcus didn’t mean to cry. He really didn’t. He didn’t mean to break down at all but things were feeling so much worse now. His chest ached from the fact that even though he and a Cyrus were technically free, they still could never be normal and live a life free of the gangs. He ached at the fact that they could really never be free of what either of them had done. It was an intense wave of emotion that he just couldn’t stop from overwhelming him. It mixed with the searing pain in his hand, leaving him a garbled mess of words and apologies as he tried to calm himself down. It didn’t work too well.
He buried his face in Cyrus’s shirt, cradling his injured hand close and using the other to cling to Cyrus. He was lucky to have his boyfriend. Marcus didn’t think he’d be able to continue on at this point if he didn’t have Cyrus by his side. And as awful as that sounded, he honestly meant it. There was no one else in his life he could really go to. No family, no friends. Maybe there was Xio but she wasn’t like Cyrus. She was kind, yes, but Marcus really needed some type of love. And god did he love Cyrus so much it hurt.
When his crying sputtered down to whimpers and shaking he pulled his face away from his boyfriend and sniffled, wiping at the tear stains down his cheeks. “I’m sorry…” he sniffed, avoiding both pairs of eyes.
"Should I leave you two for a moment?" Pollux asked, clearing his throat.
"If you don't mind, yes."
The other nodded and got up.
Cyrus kept holding Marcus close.
"You're fine. You don't have anything to be sorry for, love."
He had one hand tangled in the other's hair.
"What can I do for you?"
Marcus nearly broke down crying again when Cyrus spoke directly to him. His lover lip quivered as he pushed into the hand in his hair, tangling his own hands in Cyrus’s shirt once more.
“I don’t know!” He mourned. He didn’t know what what he needed or what he wanted Cyrus to do. “I’m so scared and I hurt so bad and I’m l afraid I’ll lose my violin skills and I’ll lose everything that made life worth living. I just- I’m so tired and sick if It all.” He bawled, pressing his face into Cyrus’s neck. “Anf yet I’m alive and I get to be with you but I’m sad because I can’t give you a normal life ever!!”
"Marcus," he said softly, "Because of you, I can live a more normal life than I'd ever imagined I could. And I know things are goddamn terrifying right now. You're in a lot of pain. That'll get better with time. But your mind is still running ninety miles per hour, huh? It's… it's a lot, but you aren't going to lose your ability to play violin, at least not forever. Once you're healed, I'm sure you'll find a way."
Cyrus stroked his head.
"The thing that was making you most miserable is gone now. You're going to be okay. I promise. I'll be with you the whole way."
His sudden breakdown was scaring him. Marcus didn’t understand what was going on with him so he focused on Cyrus instead, nearly hyperventilating as he clung to his boyfriend.
“I’m scared Cy.” Marcus admitted, squeezing his eyes shut. He tried hard to focus on only the gentle voice that told him it was going to be okay.
“Please stay… I don’t know- I don’t think I can go through this alone. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I’m so scared of it all…” the hand stroking his head was helping, but Marcus wasn’t sure he’d be able to calm down any time soon.
"I know, love. I know you're scared," Cyrus replied, "But I promise I'm not leaving your side. You'll be okay. It feels really terrible and scary now. I… I get that. But you're going to pull through, and I'm here to walk with you."
Cyrus let out a heavy sigh.
"Truthfully, I'm less scared than I've been in a long time, so I'm more than capable of lending you my strength."
These next few days were going to be hell, though. Cyrus already knew that. Marcus would be in a lot of physical pain for sure, and Cyrus would help how he could, but he was still having trouble walking himself. Not to mention, he was still waking up at night in cold sweats, or hyperventilating. Even in full-blown panic some nights. For being less scared than he'd been in a while, a lot was still wrong. He was still anxious. He was traumatized. That much was true. But he wasn't scared. After all, one of his biggest fears was dead and buried.
More than capable… that’s right. Cyrus was here for him. Marcus would be okay. He had his boyfriend here. He had someone.
Then why was he feeling so panicked still? Was it the pain coursing up and down every single nerve in his arm? Or was it the daunting idea that Marcus was actually free and yet still had a long way to go?
Whatever it was, Marcus tried hard to ignore it, settling down closer to Cyrus and slowly, slowly, coming down from his panic and fear. When he felt almost calm again, exhaustion hit him.
“Thank you my love… you’re the best thing to ever happen to me….” he murmured sleepily, pressing a soft kiss to Cyrus’s face wherever he could reach. “Fuck I love you so much… you give me too much.” He whimpered quietly, trembling ever so slightly as he tucked his head under Cyrus’s chin, pressing thankful kisses everywhere he could. It was the only way he could collect himself enough to thank the other fully.
"I only give you what you deserve," Cyrus said, "I'm far more worried about not giving you enough."
He gladly accepted all the physical affection Marcus was showering him with, and made sure to return the favor, careful to avoid any injuries.
"Again, let me know if you need anything, and when you want to go to bed and all that," Cyrus continued softly.
“You’re giving me everything, my love.” He murmured, nuzzling his boyfriend softly. “You don’t have to worry about that. It’s enough it always is.” He took in a deep breath, looking up at Cyrus and exhaling loudly.
“But I think I’m ready to sleep for days. I’m so tired…”
"Alright, we can go lie in bed," Cyrus said with a smile.
He started to stand up, but the pressure on his leg still caused a great deal of pain. It was sudden enough that it brought a couple of tears to his eyes. He still couldn't walk really. Not even from one room to the next. Cyrus didn't like the idea of not being able to help Marcus up, and to the bedroom if need be, so he pushed through. For now, he stood with most of the weight on his good leg and his hand extended to help the other.
Unfortunately for Cyrus, Marcus had caught the pain on his lovers face and in his eyes. He shook his head at the hand offering to help him, shivering softly.
“You’re still hurt, Cy… you can’t help me you’ll get hurt. I can walk on my own.” He promised, gently pushing himself up and holding his hand in close to his body. The good hand he had left moved to gently link with Cyrus’s, a soft action he tried his hardest to make mean something.
Cyrus let out a pained breath. He was relieved that Marcus had taken notice, if a little embarrassed.
"Yeah… I guess I am," he replied very quietly, his voice cracking.
He limped a couple of steps to grab his crutches, but knocked one aside.
"Ah, shit…"
Cyrus started to lean down to pick the fallen one up, but a twinge of pain passed through his side and he found himself on the floor, one the verge of passing out from the sudden pain alone.
He sat there on hands and knees for a moment to collect himself, teeth gritted to keep from crying out. His fingertips dug into the carpet.
Cyrus was so helpless still.
“Take it easy, Cyrus. I’m here to help you too. We can help each other out here.” He promised, taking a step towards his lover as the crutch fell. His whole body seized up for a moment when he noticed the pain in Cyrus’s face. And then the other was on the floor and he was panicking.
Marcus immediately jumped into action to help Cyrus, his eyes wide and a silent cry on his lips.
“Cy!” He managed to force out once he got to his lovers side. He kneeled down and gently took Cyrus’s arm in an attempt to help him back up, his eyes worried and pained at the same time. “Are you okay?!”
Cyrus took a few slow, deep breaths as he fought through the wave of pain.
"Yeah… yeah… I'm alright…" he murmured through clenched teeth, "I'm still hurting- it just took me by surprise, is all…"
He kept still for a moment while he tried to collect himself, grateful for Marcus' support.
"It's that gunshot wound on my side," Cyrus said, "I bent over, and it just- I don't know. I need a moment before I get back up, though. That almost took me out."
He turned his face to meet Marcus' eyes, but he found his vision was a bit hazy, his head swimming, and a couple of stray tears ran down his cheek against his will. How humiliating. He was supposed to be helping Marcus.
“Do you want me to get Pollux to check it out? Maybe I didn’t do enough for it or there’s something not healing quite right or maybe you just need a little extra care for it…” he rambled, moving his hands soothingly against Cyrus’s back and arm.
Marcus’s hand moved to wipe away the straw tears, his face softening with care and worry. “Rest here for a moment Cy. I’m right here.” His voice was almost too quiet to hear but full of the same loving and care he always used when addressing Cyrus.
“I know we’re both in rough shape… it’ll be alright soon…”