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

Marcus pouted softly, linking his fingers with Cyrus's. "You're going to make me cry again…" He huffed, leaning against the other's chest with a content sigh. "Thank you… You have no idea how much I mean that."

Cyrus furrowed his brow a bit, in soft concern.
"Of course. I love you way too much to- I dunno, you just deserve to be treated right."
He sighed too.
"And just getting a taste of it firsthand, it makes my blood boil. And it makes me want to try even harder to make you happy and safe."

Marcus whined softly, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the second wave of tears; these ones happy instead of scared. Cyrus made him feel way too loved for his own good.
"You're so kind, Cyrus. I love you a lot too! I want to stay here with you, I like how warm you make me feel, and how loving and kind you are towards me. It feels good."

"It really is what you deserve," Cyrus affirmed.
He nuzzled Marcus gently and kept him close. Silently, he hoped things could stay like this.

Marcus returned the affection, closing his eyes as he drew close. It felt good to be loved for once. And as selfish as it was, he hoped it would stay this way forever.
“I love you…”

"Love you too," he whispered, continuing to stroke Marcus' hair.
(You wanna skip to the night soon?)

(Yeup! Whenever y'all are ready, I'm ready)
Marcus breathed in the other's scent, relaxing completely into his arms.

After he had spent the day with Marcus, Cyrus was raring to go get this over with. There was still a sort of fog hanging over his brain, and he felt almost numb with hatred.
"Marcus, I love you. I'll drop you a call when it's done," he promised.

Marcus gave Cyrus one last hug, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Be careful, Cyrus. I love you too. I'll be there when you're done." He promised, giving the other one last kiss before he separated, looking at his lover up and down.
"Please be careful…"

With that, Cyrus left for home. He acted like he was coming back, as on any other normal night. Nina was still home, and she was working on one of her sewing projects at the kitchen table.
"Cyrus," she said, nodding in acknowledgement.
Cyrus went towards his room and set his bag down. He heard a door creak open down the hall, and his skin crawled.
"Cyrus, where the fuck have you been? Still haven't carried out that mission, and you've been gone for days? That's unacceptable! The target could have had time to get away by now!"
"Lay off, old man. I've got it under control. Also, I really don't appreciate you sending in other assassins to cover my ass. It's almost like you don't trust me."
"Your work is usually sloppy at best."
Cyrus shook his head. "Why take the time to assign me?"
Lazarus scoffed. "You damn well know why. That… boy… he's the one who caused you to lose your footing here. He made you soft."
Cyrus rolled his eyes.
"Whatever. Just stop meddling in my assignments. You'll mess me up."

He turned to straighten up his things, but then a hard blow knocked him over the head. He whipped around, braced to block, even though he was reeling.
"I caught word you've been hanging with another boy. I will never let you see the outside of my walls again if that kind of shit continues."
How does he know?

With nothing to do at home but worry, Marcus took his violin and headed out for the library. They had quite a few private sound rooms there he used to get away from his troubles.
His violin was his grounding. The music he made drew the darkness and worry from his heart in a way nothing else could.

It took only a few bus stops before Marcus found himself outside of the library, his access card in hand and eyes wide as he stared up at who sat on the steps with a book in hand.
Xiomara had moved away directly after high school, to some fancy college she had miraculously come to afford through scholarships and funds.
She was a smart, bookish girl but didn’t look the type. When they first met Marcus assumed she was just the bubbly dolt of the class with her head up in clouds.
And yet she turned out to be one of his closest allies.

Marcus had to blink a few times to make sure it was really her. Her mid-length brown hair had grown out from her shoulders to mid-back; her brown eyes looked even wider than he remembered, but were just as chocolate-colored; her tiny frame had filled out a bit as every woman’s body does as she matures (if Marcus wasn’t gay he might have liked that); and she still wore the flowy blouses and light scarves that marked her style.

“Xio?!” Her head shot up at the name, brown eyes widening more as she looked the male in front of her up and down.
“Holy shit! Marcus!” She exclaimed, jumping to her feet and hurrying down to stand in front of him. Marcus marveled at how much taller he was compared to her. She looked tiny. And that was saying something as Marcus wasn’t quite the giant himself.
“I didn’t know you still lived here! I haven’t heard from you since you quit texting me three years ago.” Xio added, glaring at him playfully. Marcus internally flinched at her words, chiding himself for not trying harder.
“Marx cut me off… you know how he is.”
“Fuck Marx. Ditch him already.”
Marcus couldn’t help but to smile at her coarse language. She looked so innocently feminine that people were thrown off guard when she turned out to be worse than a sailor. He found it funny.
“I’m working on it right now. Let’s go inside and I’ll fill you in.” He shrugged the shoulder that held his violin case, drawing her attention to it.
She lit up, nodding eagerly.
“Oh hell yes! I haven’t heard you play in so long, I was starting to miss it. And miss you too. I hate not being able to check up on you. I thought you had died until I kept checking the obituaries and you weren’t in them.”
Marcus nodded as she continued to babble on about the missed three years, her bubbly personality cheering him up.
When Cyrus was done, Marcus wanted to introduce Xio to him.
After all, she was someone who had helped him a lot.

After his father left him alone, Cyrus stood in his room, in front of the mirror, thinking about what was about to happen. He checked back in the kitchen soon after, and Nina was gone. She had left him a message:
He's all yours
Cyrus bit his lip, suddenly a lot more scared. Was his father actually that much stronger than him? Or did he let him beat him around? What if he caught on?
He shook those thoughts off. They were hardly helping, and he was in too deep now to turn back.
Cyrus found himself putting off his mission for a while, and when he peeked back out of his room, he saw his father at the kitchen table, where Nina had previously been sitting.
Good. He was probably drunk. That would at least impair him enough in fighting back.
Cyrus took a deep breath and put a hand over his knife, then started towards the kitchen. He pretended like he was going to get a drink. His father was watching him too closely. Cyrus poured himself some whiskey and turned to his father.
"Did you want some more, while I'm up?" he grumbled.
"Bring it here."
Cyrus placed one hand on the whiskey bottle and he started towards his father. As his other side fell out of sight, he reached for his knife and stabbed through the man's upper back. Lazarus let out a shocked cry.
The next moment was a blur. A gunshot rang out, and Cyrus felt something tear through his side. As soon as he caught sight of the other's gun hand, he knocked the weapon free. Yet, this gave his father time to grab a knife.
Cyrus pulled his own knife free of the other's back. That was going to kill him, but it wasn't working fast enough. Cyrus gritted his teeth as the pain really started to set in.
Lazarus unsteadily got to his feet to come after Cyrus. Cyrus backed up a bit, but his father lunged forwards. The knife caught Cyrus' arm, even though he tried to dodge. He grabbed onto his father and stabbed him again in the abdomen.
Even drunk, Lazarus was a bit faster than Cyrus had anticipated. He managed to stab Cyrus in the leg, but he never had a chance to pull the weapon free. Cyrus tackled him and started stabbing, so furious that he could barely think about what he was doing, and how brutal it was. At first, Lazarus tried to fight back, but Cyrus kept going. He had to have stabbed him five times or so before he died, but even after his body went completely limp, Cyrus still stabbed him. He kept going until he was exhausted, and his own injuries had caught up with him.
He shakily reached for his phone and called Marcus.

Marcus was halfway through a new melody when he got the call. He immediately dropped what he was doing and picked up his phone, his eyes wide as he set aside the violin in his hand.
Xio watched him curiously, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Cy?” He started, glancing at the woman he was with nervously. He couldn’t straight out ask if Cyrus had killed his father. Xio was a loyal friend but she wouldn’t stand for murder. No matter who was on the knife’s end.
“Are you ready? Do you need me to come over?” He asked, biting his lip.
“I’m with a friend, but I can be right over.” The sentence was more of a warning to Cyrus to not say anything that could alert Xio.
He wasn’t sure if she could hear the other side of the conversation but he wasn’t going to risk it.

Cyrus was silent for a moment, but his harsh panting was audible in the background.
"It's done…" he whispered, still clutching the knife in his hand.
He shifted a bit and yelped in pain.
"I-I don't know what to do… I've been… I've been hurt… I can't tell whose blood is whose… agh…"
He did his best to steady his breathing and still his body so he wouldn't hurt any more.

"Okay, it's going to be okay, sit down, Cy. Rest but don't sleep. I'll be right there, tell me the address." His face paled and Xio immediately knew something was wrong.
"Go, I'll watch your violin, okay? I'm staying with my dad so it'll be there for you. Or give me a call and I'll drop it off at your place." She whispered. Marcus only replied with a mouthed 'thank you' and a nod before he turned on his heels and hurried out of the library.
"Stay with me on the line okay? How bad are you hurt?"

"I don't think it hit anything important…" Cyrus huffed, "But… I-I think I got shot. Everything is so hazy…"
He laid down on his back and dropped the knife, switching over to speaker phone.
"The address… that's 55 Gale Lane… Oh God, Marcus… I'm so sorry… I won't die on you, I-I promise."

Checking the street he was on Marcus cursed. He didn't know when he had started to run but all the instincts in his body were telling him to go.
Cyrus was hurt, shot… The idea made him want to throw up with anxiety. He couldn't lose Cyrus. Not now. Not when everything was so close to perfect, to normal.
"If you die on me I'm bringing you back just to kill you." He growled, panic lacing his tone. A few people stared at him in concern as he passed by, watching as he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to turn down a street.
"Fuck. Cyrus I'm almost there."
Number's and names on buildings and streets passed by but Marcus barely registered them.
Hunnington's Street, 65, West Liquer, 61, Gale Lane, 55
He nearly skidded to a stop, double taking when he found the house.
"I'm here, I'll be in, don't worry Cyrus."

Marcus didn't even care to check if the door was unlocked, forcing himself inside. "Cyrus?" He called out, fresh tears on his face. When had he started crying? It seemed like he was doing a lot of crying these days.
"Cyrus where are you?"

"Marcus!" Cyrus cried out, "I'm in the kitchen!"
The kitchen was a horrible, gory sight to behold. It was clear a fight had broken out, and not only had Cyrus emerged as victor, but he had also brutalized the man on the floor nearby, almost beyond recognition.
He froze up a bit. What would Marcus think? Would he ever see him the same? He must've stabbed Lazarus at least forty times…

Marcus nearly dropped his phone, ending the call right then and there as he hurried into the kitchen.
The sight made his stomach churn in an uncomfortable way but he did his best to ignore it. The body was hard not to look at, but Marcus was afraid if he looked any longer he’d throw up or pass out. It was a scene he was used to seeing but it never got any easier.
“Are you alright?!” He asked to distract his mind, choosing to drop to his knees next to Cyrus. The blood soaking into his jeans sent a shiver up his spine but he ignored it as he looked his lover over for his wounds.
“Tell me where you’re hurt. Do you have a med kit with stitches in it? If not we- I- I need to get you home…” A sudden calm overwhelmed his senses, causing an internal panic. He couldn’t shut down right here, a coping mechanism was not okay in this situation.
He did his best to fight the calm and fog clouding his mind, using his own shirt to wipe Cyrus’s face of blood.

"Y-yeah… there's-"
Cyrus was cut off by a twinge of pain. Nevertheless, he tried to get to his feet, gripping the wall to steady himself.
"In the bathroom…"
He closed a bloody hand over the doorframe and stood there, still for a moment.
"I don't want to look at him anymore…"

“Cy!” Marcus rushed over to help the other, worry painting his features. “Let me help. We can get out of here but you cant be walking by yourself!”
Marcus stepped easily over the spatters of red, taking Cyrus’s arm and looping it around his own shoulders.
“Are you feeling okay…?”

Cyrus squeezed the other's shoulder.
"I'm still processing everything…" he admitted, "What the fuck did I do?"
His panting became harder as panic rose up in his throat, in addition to the pain and exhaustion.
"I don't know… I don't know…"
He limped forwards with Marcus' help, showing him in the direction of the bathroom.

Marcus cooed softly in Cyrus's ear, trying to calm him down as best he could.
"It's okay, love. It's all going to be okay." He promised over and over again, rubbing the other's back soothingly.
Once they reached the bathroom, Marcus sat Cyrus down and gently tugged at his shirt. "May I take this off? I need to see how deep they are…"

"Y-yeah… here."
Cyrus carefully peeled the cloth away from the gunshot wound on his side. He whimpered softly as he did so, but he managed to get the shirt off without too much help from Marcus. He winced a bit when the cloth rubbed over the cut on his arm. It was deeper than a little scratch for sure, but he felt that one was the least of his worries.
"What the hell we going to do about that knife in my leg though?" he muttered, "I'm scared to death to pull it out."

Marcus studied the knife, biting his lower lip. He didn't touch it, but moved to find the first aid kit, opening it and sighing in relief when he found all the supplies he needed.
"I can help you with it. It's going to hurt really bad, but I'll give you something to bite down on, okay? I've had knife wounds too…" He pulled all sorts of things from the kit, setting them on the counter and chewing on the inside of his lip. His extreme calm was slightly concerning but Marcus couldn't' help that at the moment. He was using the way his brain shut down to his advantage.
"We'll do it second, though. First I need to make sure the bullet isnt still in you, and then I need to patch that up." Marcus was in no way a doctor, but he had medical experience from the gang life that saved his life and other gang member's lives. He would do his best.
"Here, let me see the bullet wound, Cy." Marcus offered his hand for the other to hold for comfort.

Cyrus nodded and took Marcus' hand. He took a deep breath.
"Gotcha…" he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, "Thank you for coming to help me… I don't know what I would've done…"

"Anything for you, Cyrus. I love you a lot." Marcus replied, his voice just as quiet.
"Is it okay if I use the washcloths in here to clean you up?" He held up a small hand towel he had found, looking at Cyrus's face carefully, looking for any more fear.
"I'm here to care for you. I'll have Xio come pick us up after I'm done, but it'll have to be outside on the streets. As far as she needs to know, you got attacked by a rival gang, okay? Shes trustworthy, I promise!"

"Yeah…" Cyrus replied, "Nina can find someone to clean it up…"
He groaned softly.
"Do what you need to do, okay? I'll… I'll be okay, I just have to get through this."

Marcus nodded his agreement, wetting the towel and working right away at the wound. His brows furrowed in concentration as he worked, grabbing tweezers once he figured the bullet didnt' have an exit wound.
"Are you sure, love? We can go slow if you need to. It's going to hurt." The ginger gave his lover's hand a squeeze before he dove in to grab the bullet, his eyes narrowed.
"What did he shoot you with? Handgun?"

Cyrus cried out in pain.
"Yes- a handgun. Fucking hell…"
He grabbed at his hair, gasping for breath as Marcus touched the wound.
He was lucky the placement was far from any organs, but it hurt like hell, and if he died, his death would be incredibly slow.