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

“It does sound ridiculous… but it’s almost gospel by now doesn’t it seem? Something false that sounds true.” He sighed loudly, watching Cyrus carefully. He felt a little better.

Marcus hesitated before he slipped off the bloody jeans he wore, revealing more rope burns and even more cuts and bites. He shuddered at the sight of them, covering his mouth as he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The thought of what happened to him behind closed doors made him sick for some reason.

“S-Sorry… It makes me sick…”

"Don't apologize. I mean, I fucking… I threw up in your bathroom earlier. Wouldn't bother me that much if you did the same," Cyrus chuckled, trying to be gentle, "Can I get anything else for you?"
He ran a hand through Marcus' hair.

“I just might.” He admitted sheepishly, cracking a small smile. He appreciated Cyrus’s help in all this. He needed someone like the warm, tall male in his life and in all honesty, it felt rather good to be taken care of for once.

“No that’s all. I just need to cover the stitches and shower.” He leaned into the soft touch, letting out a small, happy sound. At least the stitches weren’t too high up his leg, residing on the side of his mid-calf.

“Alright, then. Call out if you do need anything,” Cyrus said with a smile.
He walked out and closed the bathroom door behind him.
He wandered into the kitchen and started gathering some of the ingredients that Marcus already had. Cyrus got out some pasta, vegetables, and ingredients to make sauce, and he started cooking.

With his stitches protected, he turned on the shower and stripped, hopping in. The warm water felt good on his bruised skin, washing away the layer of sweat, ash, and regret that tormented him.

He relaxed, breathing in slow and deep as he began washing his hair. It felt good to finally be clean.

It took him only a few minutes to clean himself off, scrubbing hard at his skin until it turned red. He wrapped himself up in a towel, hiding as much as he could before walking out and around to the bedroom. “It smells good!”

"Thanks. I hope you like everything alright," Cyrus replied, "Feeling any better now that you're clean?"
He carried on the conversation without looking up, as he was mostly focused on cooking.

“I feel much better… I just needed to cool off.” He gave a soft smile, sighing deeply. “No more triggers.” Marcus murmured, slipping into his room. He slowly slipped on the clothes he could find and wandered back into the kitchen.

He wrapped his arms around Cyrus’s waist from behind, nuzzling into his back and sighing. “I want cuddles…”

Cyrus let out a soft sigh.
“I’d be glad to cuddle with you. You definitely need it.”
He turned off the burner cooking the pasta and then reached his hands over Marcus’, arching his back so he could lean back to kiss him.

Marcus let out a soft, happy sound at the kiss, his tired eyes looking up at the one who so softly cared for him.

“What are you making? It smells really good… I haven’t had a ‘really home cooked meal in… since my mom was alive.” He murmured, glancing around Cyrus to try and see what he was creating for dinner.

“Pasta primavera,” Cyrus replied, “Or at least something close to it. My mom taught me how…”
He let out a melancholy sigh.
“God, we really do have a lot in common, don’t we?”

“Oh? What’s that? I’ve never heard of it.” The best thing Marcus had ever eaten was the soup from a charity kitchen. He had run away from home at the age of 17, no longer able to deal with the cruelty of his father. He was a high school drop out, a kid with a troubled past and multiple arrests, that no one really wanted to hire or house. So he depended on charities to live and eat.

During that time he had just barely dipped his toes into the water that was Marx’s gang. Marx was still pretending back then, and rather kind. He offered to help Marcus, offering him a home and food.

That was the first night Marx had forced Marcus into the bed with him.

A shudder ran through Marcus’s body. He quickly threw away those memories and thoughts, instead looking up at Cyrus. “Yeah we do…” he murmured, pulling Cyrus down for a gentle kiss. “I think that’s why I like you so much, you understand me.”

"It's an Italian dish. Usually I make it with angel hair, but since you had spaghetti, that works too. It's got a garlic-based sauce and lots of vegetables," Cyrus explained, leaning into the kiss.
He placed another kiss on Marcus' forehead.
"It's just about done. Would you do me a favor and get plates out please?"

“Ooh! It sounds good!” He hummed, looking excitedly up at the other. He was so ready to try real food again. Especially a meal prepared by someone he was really starting to feel affection towards.

“Okay!” He peeled away from Cyrus to reach up for the plates humming happily and giggling as he set down two plates for the two, even grabbing the forks they’d need.”

Cyrus took the pot and began to serve the pasta onto the two plates. There was still a bit left, and he left that on the stovetop.
"You're cute when you're all happy like that," Cyrus said, practically melting at the happy little noises that Marcus was making.

Marcus scrunched his nose up, shaking his head. “I am not. I’m still a gang member. If I’m not tough then I’ll be pushed right back to the bottom.” He proudly clapped his hands together. The moment of seriousness passed as quickly as it had come once Marcus saw there was left overs.

“Oh! I can’t wait!” He practically purred as he pushed himself into Cyrus’s side, hugging the other tightly. “Thank you so much Cyrus!!”

Cyrus smiled. "Heh… No problem. Feel free to get seconds when you're done."
He placed his hand around the other's waist, and in the other hand, he grabbed his fork and began eating. At this point, he was pretty hungry.

Marcus released the other and grabbed his plate, taking a slow first bite and humming happily at the taste. “Mm… this is so goooood… please stay and cook more. Teach me too so I can help.”

He was really liking having the other over. It made coming back from gang things worthwhile.

Cyrus laughed.
“Glad you like it.”
His tone grew a bit more serious.
“I know we just met, but… I-I was wondering…? If maybe you wanted to set up an arrangement for living together more long-term? We’re both in shitty situations and could use the extra support, so… I mean obviously I would love to move in because I like you a lot, but it makes some logical sense as well.”

Marcus felt his heart flutter. He blushed lightly, nearly choking on his mouthful of food. “I’d love that! Move in with me.” He replied shamelessly, grinning like an idiot. He was his happiest when he was around Cyrus. Something about him made Marcus giddy.

“Wait, seriously?” Cyrus muttered through a mouthful of pasta, “Sure, I’d have to move my things out of my… dad’s place…”
He stopped.
“If I move out, he’s probably going to be afraid he’s lost control of me. I’m a little afraid if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll go with you then.” Marcus pipped up, grinning at the other. “I can face anyone who’s not Marx. I’ve beaten plenty of guys that are twice my size and skill.” He licked the sauce off his lips, grinning wider.

“No… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Cyrus huffed, “For one thing, my father might already know who you are. For another, if I come home with a guy…”
He folded his hands.

“What will you do, then?” He asked softly, setting his plate down once he finished. He gently freed Cyrus’s arms so he could hug him softly. “I’m worried about you.”

“I… I don’t know,” Cyrus whispered, “I… look, as far as he knows, I’m moving out because I’m feeling cramped, and we’re roommates. He’ll still try to beat me over the head for it maybe… but…”

Marcus’s head spun for a few moments. “What if you told him it was for the gang…?” Marcus murmured. “I’m sure Marx would agree that I need a… well, someone to ‘keep me in line.’” He let his fingers brush along the other’s arm, feeling the soft skin there.

“That idea isn’t half-bad…” Cyrus said, “We’d have to figure out how to introduce it. You’re second-in-command. Perhaps you thought I would be an asset for information exchange? Just as long as… well… we keep our relationship quiet, at least for now.”

Marcus opened his mouth to speak, finding the idea absolutely brilliant.

A shockwave of pure terror came crashing down over Marcus’s head. He hardly had time to process the hoard of whispers in his head before he found himself back in that bed. Cold fingers tightened around his throat like the black tendrils of death, eating away at the cage that held the beast of biting torment whose teeth sunk deep into Marcus’s heart.

Another shudder wracked his over sensitive body. The other body pressed against his felt cold, unfeeling… like a black hole swallowing the stars in Marcus’s chest.

”What a good boy~ A silver-tongued voice purred, deeming Marcus’s voice useless. His body moved on its own, reflexively flinching away from the touch that traveled lower. His shoulder stung as the blade was buried deeper into the soft tissue, a scream catching in his throat.*

”No defiance, Marcy, it’ll only hurt more. Now, be a good little toy and keep our relationship secret.”

Marcus pushed the panic away before it became unbearable, forcing a smile up at Cyrus to distract him from the shaking hands and weak knees.

Marcus would never let such a trigger overwhelm him while in the presence of Cyrus. The taller male was kind and had never moved to hurt him. His words were precautionary, so Marx or the gang or Cyrus’s father didn’t come to punish them for having such a strong connection.

“That sounds like a plan. We’ll carry information between the two of us and be able to keep our relationship a s-secret.” His voice cracked, more bubbling anxiety threatening to spill out of his throat like a mass of molasses and sludge.

“Something wrong? If it feels too risky, I can just take the heat for it myself,” Cyrus said.
He sighed. “Don’t feel obligated to lie on my behalf. I just… He doesn’t want his bloodline to die with me, which is absolute bullshit, but…”

“Oh! No no no no! It’s not the plan! The plan sounds wonderful and I think it’ll be enough to completely fool Marx and the gang! I just-“ he paused for a moment, hesitant to speak. Was he really ready to unload such a large hoard of buried trauma and triggers? No. He wasn’t. His PTSD and the triggers that came with it would be hidden until he could hide them no more.

“I was just thinking of you having to take the pain of it all. It wouldn’t be fair for you.” It was a truth to mask the underlying issues that scorched Marcus’s soul.

“If you’re sure. If you need more time to think about it, I’m willing to wait.”
Cyrus was about to say more, then his phone started buzzing. He picked it up.
“Fuck, it’s my dad,” he muttered, “I have to take this.”