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“Good, good,” Cyrus soothed, stitching up the wound further.
Then he was done. He tied the stitches off and set everything down.
Cyrus leaned in to hug Marcus.
“God, I’m so sorry this happened to you…” he sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of the other’s eye.
Marcus pushed his face into Cyrus’a shoulder, wrapping his arms around the other tightly after his tear had been wiped away.
“I’m so scared… I’ve done so many bad things… I want out. I want to leave the gang but if I try they’ll kill me! Marx said so!” He whimpered. “I keep getting hurt and hurting others… that family had a little kid… I burned down their house for Marx but they didn’t even do anything… now they don’t have a place to stay and it’s my fault.”
"Marcus, this is extortion. It's not your will to do these things. The situation really sucks for this family, but…" he sighed, "God, I know how you feel though. I've also been forced to commit crimes against people who are innocent, and it's awful. If you do, you've done this horrible thing to undeserving people, but if you don't… there are often such hefty consequences…"
Cyrus scowled. "I hate this world we live in."
“I don’t want to do this anymore…” he murmured. “I don’t like this. I hate the fact I exist.” Marcus pulled the other closer, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Will you stay the night again…? I’m afraid if I’m alone I won’t live through the night.”
"I will," Cyrus replied, his voice growing shaky. "P-please don't leave me too… I'll help get you out of this if it's the last thing I do."
He carefully held Marcus back, trying not to hurt any spots where he might have been injured already.
“I won’t. I can’t leave you now. Not after you’ve been so kind.” He murmured gently, nuzzling Cyrus’s cheek. “I need you here with me for a bit… I just don’t want to be alone anymore.”
"I don't either. I don't want to go back. I'm not needed for another few days, but… I don't want to go back ever," Cyrus replied.
He nuzzled Marcus back.
"Let's finish getting you all cleaned up," he suggested, "Then we can lay in bed and cuddle. I can make dinner for you too."
“I want to run away.” He admitted, pulling away to rub at his tired eyes. He looked like a mess, with dried blood from his nose and purple and green bruises across his cheeks and forehead. There was even a small cut under his left eye, given to him when Marx had threatened to remove the eyeball there if he wasn’t a ‘good little toy.’
“Okay… I think I’ll shower. I feel gross.” Marcus slipped his jacket off, showing the angry red marks from the ropes. They went all the way up his arms and even once across his chest, though that wouldn’t be seen quite yet. “I’m so tired.”
"Alright. I'll leave you to that, unless you need help with anything," Cyrus agreed, "I'll cook for you in the meantime otherwise."
Cyrus eyed his arms for a moment, following the marks up his arms until the sleeve cut them off.
"If you need help treating harder-to-reach places, too, I can help you. Careful with your leg in the shower."
Marcus shook his head, rubbing at his arms awkwardly. “I’ll manage. Thank you for your help.” His green eyes dulled as he glanced down at himself, feeling embarrassed to be seen with the marks of what was practically rape.
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind. And don’t worry, I’ll be careful with it.” He promised, looking down at the wound. “Is it safe to get the stitches wet…? Should I wait?”
“Hold up, I have an idea. Do you have duct tape and plastic wrap or bags? You could cover it up while you shower. If not, you might just want to like… wipe down with a washcloth, which isn’t what you want, but better than nothing.”
Cyrus looked Marcus up and down again. This time, he felt sparks of anger in his heart.
I’ll kill him. I’ll kill that bastard…
“I have plastic bags. The duct tape is in my room. I want to shower, get rid of everything on my body.” He dipped his head in shame as Cyrus looked over him again.
He felt like a coward and like a fool. In his mind, Marcus figured Cyrus was maybe disgusted by him or at least weirded out by such an awful display.
It made his heart ache. He wanted Cyrus to be the kind man he had been the night before. “Want me to go get the bags…?” He offered in a near whisper, standing there awkwardly. He didn’t want to undress and show more of the damage Marx had caused. He was too afraid too.
“I can get them if you tell me where they are so you don’t have to walk,” Cyrus offered, ”I’ll clear out soon if you don’t want me to see your body, though. But it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m just worried about the pain it’s causing you.”
“Next to the sink, in the third drawer are the bags. The duck tape is in my room next to the bed on that nightstand.” Marcus flushed when he was found out, biting his lip. “I don’t want you to see what he does…” he whimpered. “You’ve worried over me enough. I’ll be fine, I’ve been through this before.”
Marcus pulled down on his shirt, nervously shifting from one leg to the other. He knew his story sounded weak. Just before he had been sobbing. Yes he had been through it all before. But the night had broken him beyond what he could deal with it
"You sound like me," Cyrus chuckled, going to the drawer and pulling out a box of plastic bags,"'I've been through this before.' You realize how ridiculous we both sound, right?"
Cyrus grabbed the duct tape from the nightstand and came back in. He pulled the tape and tore off a piece with his teeth.
“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?”