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

Marcus hesitantly took the seat next to Cyrus, leaning his head against the other's shoulder. "Can I do this? Is this okay?" He asked quietly, tensing for a moment. The whole apartment thing had him on edge. He was being more careful than usual, reverting back to the care he took when dealing with other, more sensitive partners.
"I can always stop, stick to myself if you like that better. Are you feeling okay though?"

“Yeah, this is fine,” Cyrus said with a smile, “And all things considered, I’m alright. Still a little shaken, but who wouldn’t have been?”
He placed his free hand on top of Marcus’ head.
“I’m kind of relieved actually…”

He relaxed slowly, closing his eyes at the touch. It felt good but he was still a little worried, and anxious, and rather tense.
"Anybody would have been shaken. Doesn't matter what you do or who you are or work for… having such a close call like that, its terrifying. But I'm relieved too, relieved that nobody got hurt or killed."

“Yeah… because most of the time it does end up that way, huh?” Cyrus sighed, his voice falling to a whisper so no other passengers might pick up on what he meant, “But not this time. Even if by some ridiculous luck. I’m almost… awestruck. How the hell do things align like that?”

"Fate? Maybe? I've never really been one to believe in fate but after meeting you… I might believe in it a little bit. It brought you to me at the right time you know. Any later and it might have been too late." Marcus didn't go into details about what he meant but it was pretty clear by the way he instinctively touched his cut wrists.
"It's weird though, isn't it? It's almost as if they didn't have a backup plan for when their target wasn't there. Usually we have some sort of backup, wether we wiretap the phones or put in cameras or microphones or something. And then we just wait for the target to return home. If it takes more than two days, we rig a bomb to go off when a door is opened or a car is started… but there was no sign of that. I wonder who they put in charge…?"

“Good question… I wonder if they went in the middle of the night though, when he definitely would’ve been there,” Cyrus wondered aloud, “And the other part of me is curious as to whether the old man is setting these things up just to fuck with me. I don’t really know who it might be.”

"Could very well have. It would make sense, but what about the book shelf? Wouldn't have someone heard? I guess if they're all asleep they wouldn't have, huh? Is Pollux usually noisy?" He asked, pausing for a moment as he thought over it all.
"I don't like this." Marcus buried his face in C'yrus's neck, huffing. "The Silence and your dad teaming up? It's not fun… especially if he's just trying to fuck with you. I don't like your dad, just so you know. I'd offer my parents but one of them is an abusive alcoholic asshole and the only decent one is six feet under." Marcus winced at his own wording. Sorry mum, I didn't mean to disrespect you…

“No, he’s usually pretty… quiet and levelheaded,” Cyrus said, “It would’ve been the wee hours of the morning, maybe. Bookshelf isn’t huge. It would’ve been one loud noise, which might sound like an accident.”
He mulled over the thoughts carefully.
“Yeah, I don’t like my dad either…” he murmured, “I’ve been lucky enough he hasn’t laid a finger on me these past few days. Then again, I’ve been staying with you, away from him.”

"Ah… I forgot most people think bumps are accidents." He laughed nervously, smiling softly. Cyrus made a lot of sense to Marcus, it felt nice to get some clarity.
"Stay with me forever, and he won't touch a hair on your head. Especially since, you know… the plan to free you." Marcus stole a glance around the bus, hoping nobody was listening in. "You'll be safe with me once I get Marx off my back.

“Thanks, love,” Cyrus replied, “I’m looking forward to the day.”
He looked out the window to see how close they were.
“Almost there, I guess,” he sighed, “He gave me his room number and all that, so it shouldn’t be that hard to get there.”

"So am I. Just us. It's a nice thought, isn't it? Even if we don't work out, you'll be safe and be able to live your life happily. Thats all that matters to me, your happiness." Marcus sat up straight, taking a glance out the window and nodding gently. "No it shouldn't, we can always look at the signs too, they'll help us."

“Yeah, even if we don’t work out, we both found our freedom. And that’s certainly something.”
The bus rolled to a stop by the sidewalk in front of the hospital.
“Room 463,” Cyrus said, “East wing.”
He stood up and waited to get off the bus.

The gang member nodded gently, tilting his head. He stood as Cyrus did, chanting: 'East 463' under his breath so he'd remember it. He made his way off the bus, staring up at the large building that made up the cities hospital. Marcus had only ever been inside twice: once to get a pain prescription for his twisted leg, and once when his mother was diagnosed with the fatal cancer that sapped away her life-force. Both times hadn't been fun.
"God I hate this place."

“Yeah… understandable,” Cyrus murmured, “It’s so bleak and sterile.”
He started towards the elevator, making sure Marcus followed.

Marcus wanderer after Cyrus, looking around at the many different people. Most were clean and wearing nice, new clothing. It made him feel self conscious in his holey sweatshirt and torn sweatpants.
“All these rich people.” He scoffed, trying to joke

“Yeah… at least it looks that way. I don’t give a shit though. I’d rather be comfortable in a place like this,” Cyrus said with a shudder.
He pressed the button for the third floor and held the elevator door for Marcus.

“Same, actually. Being comfortable is nice…” he muttered. Marcus hurried into the elevator, standing awkwardly in the corner and offering an awkward smile to Cyrus.

Cyrus put an arm over Marcus’ shoulder as he waited for them to arrive on the right floor. With a ding, the door opened back up, and Cyrus stepped out.
“Let’s see… that way,” he murmured, tilting his head in the direction of one of the halls.
Halfway down, the area opened back up, and there were a few desks, doctors and nurses running back and forth, and a few people sitting at computers.
He approached with Marcus in tow.
“Do we need to check in or anything if we’re visiting? We have the room number already,” he said.
“No, but I can point you in the right direction if you need.”
“No, thank you. We’ve got it,” Cyrus said with a curt nod.
He glanced back at Marcus.

Marcus smiled up at Cyrus, leaning into his side. He welcomed the warm touch, sighing softly.
As the doors opened he trailed after Cyrus, studying the place while he spoke to the desk attendant. The wall decor was simple, a style Marcus didn’t care much for. But the plants caught his eye. He always had loved house plants but couldn’t for the life of him keep them alive.
“We can make it, but thank you.” He added, smiling sweetly at the one behind the desk.

Cyrus scanned the numbers on the walls. He bit at his lip a little- just one of the more obvious signs of his nervousness.
Once they arrived at the right door, he knocked on it and heard a soft “come in” from the other side.
He pushed the door open, motioning for Marcus to go first.

"It'll be okay," He murmured, gently tapping Cyrus's arm.
He entered the room first, waving at Pollux in greeting. "Hi again…" He murmured, smiling weakly. He turned to look at Cyrus, offering his hand to comfort the other.

Cyrus carefully took Marcus’ hand.
“Hey,” Pollux said, “Thanks for coming to see me. I don’t think anyone else was going to.”
He had a cup of water in the hand that was free of the IV, and he broke the conversation a bit by taking a couple of sips.
“Sorry about… everything, honestly,” Cyrus sighed, “God, where do I even begin?”
Pollux shook his head dismissively.

Marcus gently tugged Cyrus towards the bed, gesturing to the bedside chairs.
"It's partially my fault as well, as a member of The Silence…" He murmured, dipping his head down. "I'm sorry you're in danger, Pollux."
He leaned against Cyrus, a little nervous. He didn't know the other male very well and he was sure it wasn't exactly fun to see your ex with a new boyfriend.

“Sorry if I don’t talk much,” Pollux sighed, “Still… not breathing great, honestly.”
“No, no. That’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay,” Cyrus replied, “How early did you come here anyway to have missed the whole… attempt?”
Pollux checked his phone for the texts from that morning.
“Mm… woke up at two-thirty, left just after three,” he said softly, “Coworker drove me.”
He took a deep inhale and breathed out, looking a bit dissatisfied at the result.
“But yeah, I’m so sorry you’re in this mess. I thought they were done antagonizing you.”
“Not you’re fault,” Pollux said, turning his gaze from Cyrus to Marcus, “Or yours.”

Marcus turned his head to look around the room, the sterile scent burned his nose and offended his senses. "So they attacked in the early morning hours…" He drifted off into thought, only coming back when Pollux addressed him.
He dipped his head down again, sighing softly. "We're all just assholes, us gang members, it might not be directly my fault but I'm still associated with them." He pointed out, running his fingers through his head.
"But we're going to better it all. I'm going to fix what I can from my side."

“Thanks,” Pollux said softly.
Cyrus was taken aback by how subdued the other was. Not that he hadn’t seen him like this before, but it was upsetting nonetheless.
Pollux rubbed at his face. “I’m so tired, but don’t think I could sleep if I tried.”
Cyrus frowned slightly and looked over to Marcus.

Marcus glanced at Cyrus, returning the frown. He bit his lip and turned his head back to Cyrus. "You could ask for sleeping aids?" He offered. "They've helped me before, knocked me right out." He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking up at Cyrus for some help.
"Sleep would be good for you, it helps the healing process or something like that."

“It’s not like that,” Pollux muttered, shaking his head sadly, “I’m still having trouble breathing… so…”
“Has anyone come to check on you recen-?”
A knock on the door startled Cyrus into stopping his sentence. With that, a nurse came in to check and make sure everything was still running, that he was still getting IV fluids and the like. He checked Pollux’s vitals again, and stepped back to scribble some things on a notepad when he was done.
“We’ll get you on some more oxygen, and I’ll see what the doctor says about additional medication,” the nurse said, “You’re still doing quite well, compared to when you arrived though.”
With that, the nurse left the three young men alone again.
“Jesus Christ, Pollux,” Cyrus murmured, “Why didn’t you go to see someone sooner?”
“It was… manageable before. It just flared really bad during the night, and medicine wasn’t working,” Pollux explained, “But I knew to come in, so-“
“Still though…”

Marcus stepped out of the way and gently rested his head against Cyrus, waiting until the nurse left to step back.
“I didn’t know it could get this bad, are you sure you’re okay? They’re putting you on oxygen.” He commented, his brow furrowing in worry. “Do you have any allergies that could have made it worse? I’m sorry if I’m prodding but not being able to breath isn’t a good thing and I’d rather see you healthy.”

“You’re okay,” Pollux said, “I appreciate the concern.”
He paused a few moments before continuing, trying to catch his breath completely.
“I mean… I’m alright now. I’m not gonna die, but… it’s not been great. My blood oxygen levels have been pretty low since I got here.”
Another deep breath. Pollux turned his head away and coughed into his elbow. Cyrus winced, his own chest tightening with sympathy. He decided to answer the latter part of Marcus’ question so Pollux didn’t have to.
“He doesn’t have any known allergies, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there,” he explained, “But I do know cold, dry air is a big trigger for him, and sometimes exercise can make him sick. Usually he doesn’t have sudden attacks though. They have this build-up. He’ll be sick for a few days and be able to doctor it up with his medication and rest, or he gets worse. This isn’t the first time he’s been in the hospital, either. It’s been really bad, ever since he was a kid, and he’s had a hard time controlling it.”