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

“She tried. A lot. But I wouldn’t take it ever. Back then I still kinda idolized the guy… I really did love Marx, he used to be so caring and loving and affectionate. It broke me the first time he took advantage of me, even if I did still loved him after it all went down. Now I just hate the bastard… he didn’t ever truly love me, did he?” Marcus turned his eyes to Cyrus, not waiting for an answer before answering Cyrus’s one question.
“I usually stick to herbal teas because I’m not usually one for caffeine, but their vanilla iced tea here is to die for. As for the herbals, the spearmint is really good if you ask for it with honey, sugar, and a dash of peppermint.”

"Vanilla iced tea sounds pretty good," Cyrus admitted, "I think I'll try that."
He gave Marcus a smile.
"And it doesn't matter. Marx may have never been a good person. He may have liked you, but sometimes… well… sometimes there's no pure love in relationships like that. And it's not your fault, you know? You're not unlovable for it, or gullible, or anything like that. He's just manipulative and cruel. How do you think he got his position?"

Marcus smiled back, but it fell slightly as he turned to face the menu, trying to decide what he wanted.
"You really think so?" He asked quietly, leaning into Cyrus's side. "I'm not 'damaged goods' or anything?" He wavered after the words left his mouth, a slight panic taking over his rational thinking.
"Ah! You don't have to answer that! I'm sorry I brought it up! I'll get back in my place! I'm sorry!"

Cyrus squeezed Marcus' hand. "Don't be sorry. You're fine. And I love you exactly as you are. Of course it would be wonderful if you were able to work through some of the issues you have, but that applies to me too. Besides, I fell in love with you. As you are now."
He let out a soft sigh and walked towards the counter, his hand interlocked with his boyfriend's still.

Marcus still seemed a little skeptical and worried, afraid he had messed up big time.
But Cyrus didn't yell or harm him.
In fact he gave his hand a gentle squeeze - an action that spoke millions of words.
"I fell in love with you as you are too, Cy. After all this is over we could find a therapist or someone to help… I've heard of other gang members who go to specialized people to get help… W-would that work?" He asked, tilting his head.
He stepped forwards with Cyrus, staring at the man who stood behind the counter. He was a taller male who looked to be about mid-twenties. His head was shaved nearly bald and his arms were both covered in intricate tattoos.
Marcus narrowed his eyes at the name tag, noting the name 'ATLAS' printed across it.

"What'll it be?" The man asked, his voice thick with boredom. He tapped the counter and leaned a little closer to hear better. For the first time Marcus noticed the hearing aids in Atlas's ears.

"Medium vanilla iced tea with almond milk, please," Cyrus replied.
He paid for his drink and left some money in the tip jar, then motioned for Marcus to go.
In the meantime, he mulled over the idea of therapy. It was hard to believe mere talking might work out years of trauma, plus biological components, but it was worth a shot, probably.

Marcus ordered his own drink rather quickly - a simple cup of chamomile with honey - and paid for his own. He gave Cyrus's hand a small squeeze as Atlas wandered back to make their drinks. "Lets go find a place to sit, any spot you prefer?"

"Back corner, if that's okay with you?" Cyrus suggested, "A-and, on the note of therapy, I'm not against it or anything. I just really worry it might not work, you know?"
He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"That's probably a stupid worry, isn't it?"

The gang member pulled his lover along with him to a small table in the back of the cafe. He sat down, looking at Cyrus with a loving smile.
"Not at all, Cy. I've heard lots of people worry it won't work. We could try, even just for a small moment in time, just for a few days. It might help your anxiety," He offered, squeezing Cyrus's hand.

"I think the prospect of might help is enough," Cyrus admitted, "I feel desperate and trapped. I guess I'm worried about it not working, and what I would resort to then."
He sighed and squeezed back.
"But you're one of the few people who has acknowledged my anxiety as a… disorder, I suppose, and not as a weakness or a choice. So thanks for that."

"Cyrus, I know you're not weak, anxiety is a real disorder, and its hard to deal with. I know that. I don't know were I learned it but I did. I just know. And I love you very much, so much that I would never put you down." He promised, bringing Cyrus's hand up to his lips to give it a soft kiss.
"Everything will be okay."

Cyrus nodded.
“God, I love you so much.”
He frowned a bit, thinking back a bit.
“Y’know, it was pretty weird taking a high school psychology course and seeing something that sounded like me in the chapter on abnormal psychology- disorders and all that. That’s really how I like… put my finger on it. Of course I did some research on my own after the fact, but… I dunno… still a strange experience, all in all.”

"I love you too" He chirped, resting his chin in his hand and gazing at Cyrus lovingly.
"It's always strange, isn't it? I didn't realize I had gone through trauma until that one friend pointed it out to me. It's weird to think your brain is different than everyone else's, that they don't think the same way you do."

Cyrus went up to the counter to grab their drinks when they were ready and set them down on the table.
“Yeah, it really is. The trauma plus the inherent anxiety- well… I always worried about really weird things as a kid, in retrospect. And it was brushed off. And honestly, I didn’t understand why other people weren’t concerned about particular things. Not for a while.”
Cyrus licked his lips.
“I didn’t realize the berating and gaslighting was traumatic, I guess. Though obviously there was something up when my dad- when he… he beat the shit out of me… But it’s not like I had the power to do anything about it.”

He thanked Cyrus softly and took his drink, humming at the smell. Chamomile really was one of Marcus’s favorite. He loved it for its comforting nature. It just relaxed him.
Marcus listened carefully to his lover speak, tilting his head and biting his lip. “Gaslighting and berating are really traumatic. Berating takes a lot of your self confidence and gaslighting makes you doubt everything you ever do and will do.” He sighed, offering his hand to Cyrus for him to hold. “The bearing is traumatic too. I understand it. I left home because my dad did the same. Don’t think he cares much.”

“You’d know that better than anyone, huh?” Cyrus sighed, taking another sip of his drink, “I wish you didn’t have to, but it is a comfort to know someone gets it.”
He took Marcus’ hand again.

“I get it. And I won’t let you suffer alone.” He offered a small smile, a knowing glint in his eyes. He knew what it was like being alone after trauma. It never bode well.
“Now, hows your tea?” He asked in an attempt to help the mood a little.

"It's very good. I'd definitely like to come back here," Cyrus replied with a smile, "Not to mention, this is just a nice date spot."
He tilted his head.
"And yours? It smells nice."

“Isn’t it? I love it here. It’s so calm and just feels warm.” Marcus beamed softly, taking a small look around the cream-colored walls decorated with small shelves of statues and art and plants alike.
He settled his gaze on Cyrus, smiling happily and lifting his cup to breath in the warmth. “It’s a classic, always tastes wonderful. I love chamomile.”

"Me too. I usually drink some before bed if I can," Cyrus agreed, "With any luck, it'll sometimes calm my nerves a little bit."
He let out a relaxed sigh.
"Herbal teas in general are pretty good, though. I'm already a sucker for floral flavors and the like. Plus a lot of them have other little benefits."

“The orange teas are so good!” Marcus purred, giggling as he brought the cup to his lips and looked Cyrus over.
“I love the florals and vanillas.”

"Oh, yeah… I've bought some shitty orange spice blends at the grocery store, and even they weren't half bad," Cyrus replied, "Really, even bad tea can be doctored up with a bit of honey."
He thought for a moment.
"I wonder if this place sells packages of loose-leaf tea? When I have a bit more spending money, I like to buy nicer things like that."

“Honey and some brown cane sugar.” Marcus added, smiling brightly. “I love it with honey and sugar.” He purred, tapping his cup. “I had some put in this. But loose leaf tea is always the best. It’s so good, it has a good taste to it.”

"You can control the strength better, plus it's more eco-friendly and cheaper long-term," Cyrus added, "And sometimes loose leaf teas come in cute tins."
He mused a bit.
"My mom made her own herbal teas, actually. She cultivated some plants and dried out the leaves and flowers. A lot of the time, she'd use them for minor ailments me and my siblings had. Sometimes I'd complain of a stomachache just so I could drink lemon balm tea. She probably saw right through me, though."

Marcus listened with wide eyes, a smile growing on his face. Just listening to Cyrus talk about his life made Marcus's heart flutter.
"She probably did, but I bet it was worth the lemon balm tea." He laughed softly, tilting his head and humming at Cyrus. "Lets get some ingredients and we can make our own lemon balm, how does that sound? Once this is all over I'll make you all the teas in the world. I like seeing you happy, its cute."

"It's just one plant, actually," Cyrus said with a chuckle, "Very simple, and it's good with honey."
His phone buzzed. Probably Nina, but he was able to ignore it in favor of Marcus.
"Although I kind of suck at gardening, so growing a plant of our own might be a problem."

"Only one?! I didn't know it was so simple!" He blinked in surprise, tilting his head at Cyrus. His eyes flickered across the other's face, his own expression amused and loving.
At the mention of gardening Marcus blushed, looking down at his tea and laughing softly. "I can garden. I'm actually quite domestic, you know. I'd be a decent trophy wife or husband or whatever." He tapped the side of his cup for a moment, debating whether or not to give more information on his hobbies.
"I play too, violin that is. I love the sounds I can make and how pretty of an instrument it is. It's gorgeous from the way it's shaped to the way it sounds and how its played… I love it." His eyes lit up with a new light that could only be found when Marcus spoke of his love for the instrument.
"Fiddle songs are fun and all but the deep, longing sounds of classical music that comes from the heart? Sometime's I'll just play what's in my soul and it comes out in a way I can't get out any oth-" And then that light was snuffed and Marcus suddenly went blank.
He drew back in on himself and bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Cy, I shouldn't have spoken so much."

"What? No?" Cyrus said softly, "My god, you looked so engaged and happy talking about that, and I wouldn't have it any other way."
He took his hand off his drink and offered them for Marcus to take.
"I would actually like to hear you one of these days, if that's okay," he murmured, a slight flush rising to his cheeks.

Marcus took the other's hand, biting his lip nervously. He wouldn't look Cyrus in the eye for a few moments, but soon he lifted his head and met the other's eyes, flushed red and more than a little embarrassed.
"Y-you would? I can play for you, if you'd like." He laughed nervously, not even trying to hide the heat in his face.
"Its at the gang house, Thomas makes sure it's safe for me. He's really good at taking care of them, I wonder if he's a musician too?"

"I'd love that," Cyrus replied, "Just when you're able, of course."
He smiled.
"I always wanted to try an instrument, but I've never really had the opportunity. Besides, seems like a lot of work."