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

“I’m hoping for the good outcome.” He murmured, folding his legs so he could sit more comfortably.
“We’ll let that play out as it does, for now let’s just rest and celebrate.” He offered a gentle smile and placed a hand on Cyrus’s leg.

"Yeah, there's not really anything I can do anyway," Cyrus agreed.
He let out a sigh.
"As for right now, I'm more in a mood to rest than celebrate."

“Who says resting can’t be a form of celebration?” Marcus mused, moving to give Cyrus more room. “Here, lay down. You need the rest even if you don’t sleep or anything.”
He studied Cyrus’s face, taking in all of the dips and curves and lines he so loved.
“Have I mentioned that you’re handsome as hell?”

Cyrus chucked softly.
"Only all the time," he replied, placing a hand on Marcus' lower back.
His eyelids felt heavy.
"God, I could sleep for days," Cyrus said, "I'm not sure if I should try eating before I go to sleep or anything though, you know, to help build up my blood again."
He shook his head.
"I feel like shit, honestly. My head hurts and I'm starting to feel nauseous again."

Marcus’s face split into a small smile, the touch of his lover enough to help soothe some of his worries.
“Eating would be a good idea. Even if it’s just something small. You did get that juice in your system so that should help as well. I can make you a shake or something if drinking is easier than eating. I know it gets hard sometimes… especially after something like that.”
Marcus gave Cyrus a soft pat and frowned lightly.
“Do you need help getting up? I can bring something in here if you need to throw up.”

"I don't think I'm actually going to throw up," Cyrus said, "It's just… nausea."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.
"Yeah, I don't know what I want. Nothing too heavy, but that's all. And solid food should be fine."

The ginger moved to rub Cyrus’s back, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’ll pass in time. You still need to heal and that was a lot to go through.”
Marcus paused, thinking over what he could make.
“Anything you’d like to request? I can make eggs or potatoes or a sandwich or even just chicken nuggets.”

"Eggs sound good," Cyrus replied.
He gave a slight smile. It felt nice to be taken care of for once. Usually when he was hurt, he had to do all of the recovery by himself.
"God. I just love you so much."

“I can do that. How do you like your eggs, love?” Marcus planted a warm kiss on the other’s cheek, returning the smile with one of his own.
“I love you too, Cyrus. A whole lot more than even I can comprehend.”

"Scrambled is fine," Cyrus replied, leaning into the kiss.
He winced a bit.
"Could you bring me some medicine when you come back, too? It'll save you a trip."

“A plate of scrambled eggs and some medicine. I can do that, baby.” He smiled warmly and gently cupped Cyrus’s face.
“Can I kiss you? Like on the lips…? It’ll be gentle.” Marcus blushed, feeling a little awkward but he needed to ask just in case Cyrus wasn’t feeling up to it

Cyrus gave a slight nod.
"Of course," he answered, reaching a hand up to guide the other's face closer.
He smiled just a bit, though that smile didn't go up to his eyes. They were glossed over with pain and exhaustion.

“Thank you,” he whispered, tilting his head a little to stare into his lovers eyes. The pain and exhaustion made his heart hurt ten times worse than any pain he had ever known.
He met their lips in a soft, loving kiss, hoping to take away as much pain as he could from Cyrus with the action.
When he pulled back he pressed their foreheads together, sliding his fingers into Cyrus’s hair to play with the soft strands.
“I love you, Cy. I’ll help you heal, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” He sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment before he pulled away from Cyrus, already missing the warmth and comforting scent Cyrus always gave off.
“I’ll go start your food, if you need me, call.”

"Thank you so much," Cyrus called after.
He laid his head back as he watched the other go.
He reached for his phone when it started to vibrate. Nina. He held it to his ear. She sounded more rattled than he'd ever heard before.
"Cyrus, what the fuck…? What happened here? You said it was messy, I didn't expect- oh my god, the bathroom too. Are you okay? I mean, you must be, right? You answered the phone."
"I… yeah…" Cyrus replied, his voice cracking a bit, "He kept fighting back, I didn't know what to do…"
"Is that your blood?"
Cyrus hissed softly.
"Nina, I got hurt pretty bad. My partner came to help me though, so I'll be okay."
"O-okay… Have you thought about cleanup? This is brutal, Cy. Absolutely brutal. Who even…? I can't do this by myself, you know."
"Sorry, this was unplanned… If I need to pay someone off to-"
"No, it's okay, I have a few close mates who would be willing."
Cyrus sighed in relief.
"I'm so sorry, Nina."
"It's okay… I- just… just feel better, okay, you dipshit? Goddammit, you're horrible at this whole gang thing. Thank God I can finally boot you out."
"Wouldn't have it any other way…"
"Yeah, okay. Well, you're allowed to keep in touch with me, you know? If you need anything? And feel free to stop by the house to pick up more of your stuff. I don't really care one way or another."
"Got it. Thanks, Nina. If you need anything, let me know, too."
"Mhm. Bye. See you around, maybe. Don't die."
"Bye."
Cyrus hung up and sighed in relief.

Marcus was blissfully unaware of the conversation happening in the bedroom. He was lost in his own thoughts.
As happy as he was to see Cyrus free and able to live his life, it felt strange. Marcus was still tied down, he still had his cage, his wings were still clipped.
Marx would grow tired of waiting.
He’d probably come back from his mission early.
And he’d want Marcus the second he got back.

The thought made him shudder involuntarily, the egg in his hand cracking a little too early. He cursed at it, throwing it into the sink and turning it on to wash away the mess from his fingers.
The yellow of the yolk reminded him too much of the mornings after Marx had his way with him. He would always make breakfast after for Marcus, caring for him in some twisted way.
One moment Marx was sweet and kind and loving and then the next he had Marcus tied to the bed and cutting into him with a knife.
”Don’t forget you’re mine, Marcy… I’ll let everyone know it too.”
Marcus’s fingers ran over the name carved into the skin of his torso; a brand to mark him as property and not a person. To mark him as a mindless toy to a sadistic man. Marx
Marx’s cruelty far outweighed the kindness he showed. And yet Marcus had been so blind to it, so flattered by Marx’s fancy words and flashy smile.
”You’re such a pretty thing, Marcy~ I absolutely adore your hair. And all these freckles? I could kiss everyone of them ten times over. Our names are so similar too, so it must mean we were meant for each other.” The sultry voice of Marx would probably be burned into Marcus’s mind forever. Each soft word was just another hook to bait the ginger into forgiving Marx for whatever evil he had done to Marcus the night before.
”Oh please baby~? Wasn’t it such a fun night? I made sure you were well taken care of, isn’t that enough for you?”

Marcus fazed back into reality when he noticed the eggs were nearing their end. He turned the heat down and stirred them, sighing when they were finally put onto a plate.
He took a moment to breath, to calm down. He didn’t want to look distressed in front of his lover.
He grabbed the plate and moved to the bathroom to grab a bottle of pain meds. He decided the whole bottle would be better to just keep in the bedroom, as long as he watched Cyrus carefully around them.
Marcus knew how bad getting addicted to pain medications could be, he had nearly died to an overdose on them.
Not a fun time.

He made his way into the bedroom quietly, just in case Cyrus had fallen asleep but he was instead met with a relieved looking Cy.
“You look less stressed, did you get some good news?” He asked softly, smiling as he held out the plate of scrambled eggs to Cyrus.

"Uh, yeah. Nina called," Cyrus replied, "I don't think I've ever heard her so… frantic? But it's okay, she actually seemed kind of concerned rather than angry. I think we have an understanding, especially now that I'm out of the way."
He shook his head a bit.
"I guess anyone would've been shaken to see that, huh?"

“I’m glad to hear she’s not angry with you.” He smiled weakly, sitting down next to the bed once again so he could look up at Cyrus lovingly as he spoke. He nodded gently along and sighed.
“It was pretty gory… but I’m glad you’re free now. You must have really hated him.” Marcus murmured gently, resting his head on the bed and turning to see his love better.
“I’m happy for you.”

Cyrus shuddered.
"I… yeah…" he whispered, "I didn't go in meaning to…"
He squeezed his eyes shut.
"I didn't know i was capable of such violence."

Marcus took Cyrus’s hand and brought it to his lips in a soft kiss. “Hey, baby, it’s okay. This doesn’t change anything other than the fact that you’re free now. I don’t see you as a violent person. I don’t blame you. That man was horrid and he deserved what he got.”
Marcus sighed softly, bringing a hand up to cup Cyrus’s face.
“It’s okay, love. You did what you had to do and now you’re free.”

Cyrus nodded. He hardly believed a word of it, but what was he to do? Tell Marcus he was wrong?
"Right… I did what I had to…" he echoed.

“Exactly, so don’t worry, baby. Focus on healing, okay?” Marcus took Cyrus’s hand in his and gave it a small squeeze. “Eat, it’ll help. Then you can sleep, get your energy back. And I’ll stay right here the whole time, just for you.”

Cyrus nodded and started eating the eggs Marcus had prepared.
"What if Marx finds out about this?" he asked, "How will you explain me staying here during an injury, when I haven't carried out my hit yet, and there's no clear end to that?"

Marcus fell strangely silent. He looked away, staring at the door with unseeing eyes.
What would he do?
There really was nothing he could do but accept whatever punishment Marx prepared for him.
It made Marcus shudder to think he would probably be forced back into that sexual hell of a basement Marx kept for torturing those who went against him.
Marcus was sure if Marx claimed him again he would break completely. Things were finally going up for Marcus. He had a loving partner now and if Marx ever found out about that, he’d lock Marcus up and kill Cyrus. Or at least seriously injure Cy or threaten him. Then Marcus would never see Cy again…

“There’s no way to explain it away… not anymore. If he finds out he’ll lock me back in that godforsaken house for months on end again. He’ll either blackmail or try to hurt you to keep you away from me. He’ll do anything to make sure his toy stays his.” His voice was low, almost angry, and yet Marcus looked broken.
“I’m so sick of just laying down and taking it. If I have to go back to being his I’ll kill myself. I can’t take it anymore, Cyrus. I can’t take the torture, the cutting, the manipulation. It’s hell. Being dead is better than living life as Marx’s plaything.”
He ran his fingers over the name on his torso once again before scratching at it; he wanted to get rid of it, he wanted to carve it out of his skin. So he scratched at it, ignoring the slight burn that came with the self harm.
“I can’t do it anymore. I want any trace of him on me to go away. I just want to forget about him!”

Cyrus gently grabbed Marcus' wrist.
"Don't do that, you're hurting yourself," he soothed, "Do you need me to find another place to stay while I heal? I can do that."
His eyes were wide with concern.
"And as the leader of Nightshade, is there anything I can ask Nina to do?"

Marcus whined softly but didn’t take his hand back. He stared at Cyrus for a moment, his mind going over the other’s words.
“I want you to stay, Cy… I want to take care of you.” He murmured, slipping his wrist from the other’s grip. “But if it means you’re safer then I won’t stop you from going someplace else.”
The temptation of getting Nightshade involved tugged at Marcus. Protection, even for a small moment, would be enough for them to make a plan.
“Is there a way she could convince Marx to leave me alone for a little bit? Even just for a little while longer. I need a plan.”

"Yes, she probably needs to touch base with him anyway," Cyrus said, "And if I leave, you're allowed to visit me. I just don't want Marx to find me here and take it out on you."
He relaxed his hand.
"Would you want to get a tattoo over that?" he asked, thinking aloud about the name carved into Marcus' skin, "Y'know, once you're able to…?"

“It wouldn’t be good for either of us if he finds out we’re dating… so please, have Nina contact him if you can, and I’ll help you find a place if you leave. I’ll still be pretty clingy, you know… I want to care for you.” Marcus leaned in to press a soft kiss to Cyrus’s cheek. He loved showing affection but he was trying to hold himself back for Cyrus’s sake. His love needed to heal before they could cuddle.
“A tattoo…?” He stared blankly at the other, the thought never occurred to him. He could cover it up, turn it into something pretty he liked.
“I- Yes! I would love to!”

Cyrus felt a slight smile cross his face.
"Alright. I might try to move back home tomorrow, and you're welcome to visit me. Nina won't be home much, and if she is, she won't come in my room. Besides, she's never cared much who I dated. So even if she did find out…"
He licked his lips nervously.
"At least it's safer than here."
His thoughts drifted back.
"Yeah, I've always liked the idea of turning scars into art. I think it'd be good for you, as long as you'd have it."

“I’ll help you move, and it’ll just be until Marx is out of the picture. Once he’s gone you can move back in if you’d like.” He beamed at the idea of sharing a space with Cyrus. They had practically been doing that already but the idea of making it official excited him.
“And if she tries to tell you who you can or can’t date, I’ll come and get you.” He promised, offering his hands for the other to take.
“And as for the tattoo, I think it’d be good for me too… I wouldn’t be tempted to cut it out of my skin, and it’d be something I pick and like. I don’t even know what I’d do, though. What’s a good tattoo for the area under my ribs?” He asked with a soft laugh, tilting his head as he thought over what he could do. The potential was thrilling. He could cover up Marx and turn the ugly scar into something beautiful.

"You have plenty of time to think on that," Cyrus replied, "Maybe a flower or an animal that you like, or some words that inspire you?"
He shifted a bit.
"Also… Nina seemed more oddly caring towards me when we spoke a bit ago. I think it might be a combination of me no longer being in the way and me doing her a favor. Besides, like I said, she doesn't really pay much mind to who I'm dating. In fact, I think she might like you, even."
He grasped Marcus' hands.
"It's going to be okay."