“Mm good. See to it that he keeps his word. He might regret sending a valued member into a den of wolves.” He grinned crookedly, waving the two away as if they were flies annoying him. “Leave. I have nothing for you here.” It took Lighter no time to be at the door, gesturing Cyrus out in an almost desperate manner.
“Oh, and Marcy?” Lighter froze. “Be sure to come tomorrow by nine. I’m an impatient man and one more of your slip ups will not be tolerated.” The growling voice was pressure enough. The room felt small and cage-like for the thin and fragile male who tried so hurriedly to remove Cyrus from the situation.
“I w-will!” He squeaked our, clearing his throat before he nodded curtly, shuddering.
Cyrus took no time at all to break away his gaze and head out the door. He couldn’t stand to be here any longer.
“Tch…” he muttered to himself, “Valued member, my ass…”
Marx had to have heard some of the dirt Cyrus’ father had on him. But he glanced back at Lighter, his brow furrowed and front teeth tugging at his bottom lip like he wanted to say something. Perhaps it was better he didn’t.
The door was shut behind them with a surprising amount of care. Lighter had learned quickly that trying to escape got him nowhere. Especially if it included slamming doors.
“Y-you offered a drink, no? I might take you up on that offer.” He straightened himself, acting as if nothing had happened at all. He looked fine… except for the trembling in his fingers and hands. “Cyprus was it?”
“Cyrus,” he corrected gently, “And yeah, let’s go. I could use a drink too. You know, with my father sending me out to do all this petty work.”
He cast a very weak smile. Cyrus was shaking too, though he kept his arms as close to his body as possible to try concealing it.
“Cyrus.” The name was nearly whispered as they came back to the group seated around a dingy television. Whatever they were watching sounded violent and somewhat vulgar and yet each member was focused intently on its screen.
“They’re watching a kill Marx made.” Lighter explained harshly, warning a few glares from those sober enough to see straight. “Petty work is all there is in this line of business. Can’t escape it no matter how hard you try.”
"I'm still his letter boy," Cyrus joked, "It's been a while since he's asked me to make any hits… and well… at least with that I don't have to deal with-" his voice broke off a bit. "Doesn't really matter, I guess."
He gazed over at the television, but didn't think much of it. That was just another day in the job. Cyrus felt all too numb to acts of violence nowadays. It sucked, but that was just the way things were. They would continue to be that way, even if Cyrus died trying to get out of it.
"So shall we?" he prompted, continuing to walk past the pack of Silence members.
(ahhhh i knew this would be a real good rp from the beginning! lowkey wanna turn this into a book when it finishes, or if it ever does finish aha)
(Lol Cyrus is one of my most developed characters but he's actually from a fantasy story I'm writing)
(Haha thanks @izzy-is-officially-back-from-hiatus!! I’m thinking of giving Marcus his own book but I’m not sure yet. It would be dark and quite shocking)
“I light the fires and get Marx off every now and then. That is my only purpose in this god forsaken group.” He admitted with a scowl that dared the other to oppose - or even judge - the other.
Lighter’s head dipped in a ‘yes,’ trailing after Cyrus with a slight breath of relief. “Yes… lets. I’m sick of this place already. There’s a bar around the corner that sells excellent vodka, they don’t give a fuck who drinks there either. As long as they get their money they don’t complain.”
Once outside, Lighter inhaled deeply. He needed a cigarette badly but had used his last one earlier that morning. He didn’t feel like making a trip to the store anytime soon so he forced himself to man up.
"Lighter…" Cyrus sighed, his eyes flitting to the other, "This is a stupid question, but are you… are you alright?"
He frowned a bit. Probably not how he should have worded it.
"You know what I mean…"
He followed Lighter out and nodded at the mention of the bar, but he was more focused on other things.
The question took the other aback. His green eyes narrowed, searching Cyrus’s face long and hard for something that didn’t seem to be there. “Alright…?” He kicked a rock out of the way as his feet met sidewalk. “I’ve never been alright.” You were alright when your mother was alive. Shut up.
“Why would you care? ‘S not like you can do anything. You’re not even part of the main group.” He sneered, picking the easiest emotion to deal with the situation; anger, coldness. He wasn’t sure how to react, really. No one had ever really asked if he was alright besides Marx back before he revealed his true colors.
"I-I… Sorry… It was probably insensitive of me, I just… A lot of that back there…" Cyrus found himself fumbling for words, "And you're right, I probably can't actually do anything, but like… God… I wish I could. I saw all of your reactions to Marx and- Maybe it's not my business, but…"
He stopped his rambling and bit down on his lip, apologizing again.
Cyrus took in a deep breath and let out a sigh, trying to bring himself back down.
He's not my dad. He's probably not going to hurt me. I don't have to be defensive like that.
A muscle clenched in Lighter’s jaw. “Just forget you saw any of that…” he muttered, his voice wavering as if he were afraid he’d be harmed. “It’s nothing…” Its humiliating. “Marx is m-my consen… consensual partner.” He choked on the words like they were bad cold medicine, sticky and sweet as they slid down his throat. “I’m fine being with him.”
His expression gave his true feelings away. Lighter wanted out. He was tired of writhing under a touch he didn’t want, under a man who forced himself upon him every night they were together.
"I don't want to push you on the topic. I didn't intend to cause any discomfort or tension, but I know what I saw, and I only hope you can one day find a way out. I don't know if I personally could do anything, but… I wish I could," Cyrus replied, his voice falling to a whisper, "Sorry, I'll just… I'll shut up now. Let's get us some drinks. It'd be nice to forget for a while."
Cyrus kept a good amount of physical distance between himself and Lighter, just so he didn't make the whole situation even more uncomfortable.
The small sparks of hope that had been lit when Cyrus asked if he was alright died out. Cyrus was becoming distant with him, just as everyone else had. It was silly to think he could have a real friend.
You’re an idiot. Look where giving your heart out got you.. The insistent voice in his head snickered. He swore he could feel it smile cruelty.
“I’m fine.” He stated firmly, reassuring himself more than Cyrus. He had to repeat it over in his head until they reached the bar, where the noise and alcohol could distract him from the loud thoughts that threatened to crumble him.
Cyrus shook his head in disbelief, but he didn't want to start anything.
He sat down at the counter first, asking for some vodka for both of them.
"Also, sorry in advance if I get intolerably drunk," Cyrus said under his breath, just loud enough for Lighter to hear, "I don't have the best self-control."
The soft words turned Lighter’s ears pink. As much as he hated to admit it, Lighter was a sucker for breathy words and mumbled phrases. They felt soft to him, loving. So much unlike Marx’s harsh and cold words…
He turned his face away and nodded softly, snickering to try and play off his blush. “I’m a raging alcoholic. I lost the ability to control myself years ago. Looks like we’ll both be getting drunk off our asses tonight.” He mused, cracking a wide grin once he was sure the red had disappeared from his cheek. “What’s your favorite alcohol to get drunk on?”
"Sounds fun to me," Cyrus replied, a slight laughing tone in his voice, "And honestly, whatever does the trick, but I am a sucker for good whiskey."
Cyrus started to drink the moment the bartender brought their glasses.
"Not every day I get to get absolutely hammered though. Looking forward to these few hours of bliss, if you can call it that."
Lighter eyed the small glass, tilting his head slightly like a curious puppy. “I forgot this is the normal amount.” He chuckled, raising it to his lips. “Whisky never really got me. Vodka and most everything Everclear is my favorite. Almost pure alcohol. It’s a bliss indeed. There’s something therapeutic in being so drunk you can’t form words.”
Cyrus tapped on his glass with his fingertips.
“Yeah, not to mention how confident you can be despite the fact you can barely speak,” he mused, “Wish I could keep that little bit in my everyday life. Some people get confidence for free, but I usually have to be at least a little tipsy to do something as simple as flirting, for example.”
(Gtg, I’ll be back tomorrow)
(Okay byyyee!)
“Oh flirting is easy once you figure it out.” He thrusted his thumb against his chest, grinning proudly. “I’ve done it for years. Granted it’s all cheap tricks and false confidence but it works.” He took another sip of his drink and leaned back in his seat. “I apologize if this is awkward but, what do you fancy in a partner? Men? Women? Any of the sort?” He was playing a dangerous game here.
Cyrus shrugged. His stature was very relaxed, giving no indicator that he felt awkward about the question.
“Men, women, anyone really,” he replied, “I’ve been in a lot of relationships, but they all seem to just kind of crash and burn.”
He chuckled quietly. It was sad, but he guessed that’s just the way things were.
“They all do seem to be shit, huh?” He murmured, sighing as he drained the rest of his drink and ordered another one. “I’ll pay for the extra drinks I have.” He grumbled, looking over at Cyrus with a curious expression.
“Okay,” Cyrus agreed, also ordering another drink.
He laughed to himself. “Yeah, being in this line of work and being a romantic don’t mix,” he admitted, “But even if I find someone from the outside, usually that ends up sucking too. Man, like I don’t even want sex all that badly, I just want someone to love and hold at night.”
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