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"I'll move into the kitchen eventually," Cyrus replied, "Thank you so much for making dinner while I'm unable to."
He leaned into Marcus' embrace, glad to be held so gently. He almost dreaded the moment that Marcus would get up to go make them dinner.
"I haven't really felt this looked after since my mom disappeared," Cyrus admitted, feeling a little choked up at the thought.
“Of course, Cyrus. You really should let me cook for you more often once you’re all better. You really do deserve to be cared for.” He rumbled, grinning happily. Marcus did as much as he could to repay Cyrus for the new life he had given him.
“You deserve to have someone to look after you, Cy. You do so much already.”
Cyrus smiled a bit.
"I… I appreciate it so much more than words can express. I really do. It goes both ways, you know? I love caring for you, of course, but sometimes, I just want to be taken care of. I know you probably were in the same boat as me, where you didn't get that kind of care often. But it feels so nice to give it freely both ways."
He finally stood up from the bed, his leg a little stiff but able to bear enough weight for him to go to the kitchen with Marcus without any assistance.
Marcus rumbled happily and shrugged a little. “I never got it both ways and even when I did get it it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t soft and warm and good. I don’t ever want to give this up, give you up. I like what we do and how we are together. I really like being able to care for you and know that when I need it you’ll be more than happy to jump in for me. I love you.”
Marcus followed Cyrus up out of the bed, yawning and stretching his arms out with a soft laugh. “Alright, love. Let’s go get dinner made so we can eat.”
Cyrus walked alongside Marcus into the kitchen, basking in all the affection the other was giving him. He didn't feel he deserved it, but it felt nice, even if it left him feeling a little guilty.
"Let me know if I can help in any little way. Like I'm okay to sit at the counter and chop vegetables. I just can't be on my feet for as long as I'd like. Or I can get out plates or drinks or something."
Marcus opened the fridge up and pulled out the few things he had already started prepping, smiling at Cyrus. He set the items on the counter before he moved to press a soft kiss to Cyrus's cheek. "If you want to you can chop some vegetables. I was thinking a type of stock soup. It would settle more with your stomach and stock is good for healing or something like that. Don't quote me on that healing part." He chuckled and gave Cyrus another peck on the cheek. "Regardless, it's lightweight and is much better."
"That sounds good to me," Cyrus replied, "And yeah, I'll help you chop some vegetables. Just pass me what you need done."
He grabbed himself a glass of water and set it down at the counter, then pushing himself up into one of the chairs.
"Let me know how you want them cut too. Diced, or a larger cut, or whatever it is that you think is best."
"Don't do anything beyond what you can do right now," He warned. Marcus gathered potatoes and carrots and the likes, giving them a quick wash as he waited for Cyrus to settle down.
"That depends on what you're feeling at the moment. Do you prefer bigger chunks or would you prefer them to be smaller?" He asked softly, setting a cutting board and the vegetables down in front of Cyrus. He offered the other a knife, smiling lovingly at him.
"Depends, I'll just do it at my whim, I guess," Cyrus answered with a shrug, "This isn't too hard of work for me. My hands and arms are mostly fine, and eating isn't too big of a deal."
Cyrus took the knife and started chopping the carrots at first, into simple, circular pieces. Then, he started on the potatoes, cutting them into slightly larger chunks.
At first, he was fine with the knife in hand, but as he kept going, strange thoughts began to trickle into the back of his mind.
It would be so easy to just stab him.
Cyrus' mouth went into a hard frown when the thought started to pester him. He went a little pale, but kept chopping vegetables, trying to push the thoughts away. He wasn't sure why that was coming to mind. After all, Cyrus would never hurt Marcus, right?
"That sounds alright, Cy. Just as long as you are careful okay? I love you." He purred, pressing soft kisses across the other's face. Marcus smiled at him before he. went off starting on some sort of recipe for a stock he seemed to have memorized, pulling spices and seasons out of the cupboards and studying them for a few moments. Some he added and others he frowned at and put away. Marcus had a lot of domestic qualities about him. He had been a sort of house husband for Marx and the gang, almost like a little pet expected to clean and cook and care for the evil man. He had hated it there, but here he found comfort in the simple domestic tasks.
At some point Marcus glanced over to check on Cyrus and caught the strange expressions. He leaned over to press a soft kiss atop Cyrus's head. "What's wrong baby?"
Cyrus put down the knife for a moment.
"I keep getting these weird thoughts… They don't feel like they're my own, and on top of that, they're usually pretty disturbing," he murmured, "But they're just thoughts. It's fine."
He went back to slicing vegetables, but clearly he was distressed still.
Marcus wracked his brain for a moment, his brows furrowing. "Intrusive thoughts? My friend Xio told me about those. Apparently she gets them a lot with her anxiety and she says a lot of others with mental health issues with anxiety get them. They're some sort of weird thoughts you don't actually want to act on or something like that… But I don't know much more beyond that. Xio's the smart one when it comes to that kind of stuff. We talked about it one day when I brought up my suicidal thoughts because they were starting to scare me." Marcus shrugged lightly, leaning against the counter for a moment. "Can I ask what types of thoughts?"
Cyrus scowled a bit, lowering his head.
"I don't want to go into detail, no. But… thoughts of violence."
He tilted his head.
"You said that it doesn't mean you want to act on them, though, and that's a relief to say the least. I would n- I would never act on some of the thoughts I've been having lately. At least, I don't think I would."
He sat silently for a moment, thinking on some of the conversations they'd been having. And it hit him. Maybe those intrusive thoughts were a big part of why he thought of himself as a monster, and maybe knowing that those thoughts were likely untrue would help. Just maybe.
"Yeah, they're thoughts you get but don't actually want to do. I remember that was a big thing she made sure I understood because suicidal thoughts are intentional so they are a higher priority and something you shouldn't just disregard." He sighed gently at a reminder of the past conversation.
"I don't think you'd act on your thoughts, whatever they are. You're really kind and nice and a good guy."
"I hope not," Cyrus agreed, "It sounds like that's all that is then."
He paused for a few seconds, trying to think of how to approach the topic.
"Have you had any thoughts like that? Since… well… since we've been free?"
He put down the knife and pushed it aside. After all, it's presence in his hand seemed to make those intrusive thoughts louder.
(Sorry for the wait, work was super busy so I slept for like ever and then it was my cousins bday)
Marcus paused for a moment, biting his lip. Did he? “I… I don’t know. My thoughts are confusing a lot of the time. I don’t know what’s mine and what’s been placed there by Marx.” He took a moment to breath, looking a little guilty for a moment. “But… there’s a few thoughts of mine that are for sure from my brain and some of them I can’t say I don’t want to act on them. I still get the urge to self harm. And the suicidal thoughts. I wouldn’t ever act on the suicidal thoughts, though! Never. Not after I’ve lived and survived and I found you. I could never leave you. But the self harming ones are loud and sometimes very convincing. The most I’ve done is scratch myself with my nails though. I refuse to do anything more than that. And it’s much harder with a whole hand out of commission which is good.”
Cyrus nodded.
"Yeah, I know, but you know you can talk to me about them, alright?" Cyrus reassured him, "Or if you need company to ride out the urges, all you need to do is call on me. Otherwise, we should probably see what kind of help we can get you. I know you don't really intend to do anything serious to yourself, but you could. And even if you don't, I know the thoughts have to be bothersome."
He tilted his head.
"I had no idea my brother was contemplating before he died, though, so I'm glad you've at least spoken up. It gives me some comfort to be able to talk to you about it."
"I know I know. I'm sorry for not coming to you with them. I'm used to dealing with them on my own. It feels like it's easier though I know it's really not." He admitted sheepishly, standing up straight and moving to Cyrus, placing his hands on the counter on either side of him. He pressed a gentle kiss to Cyrus's cheek and sighed softly. "It feels good to be able to talk about it too." He smiled and looked over the other. "I don't ever plan to leave you, though, Cyrus. I love you so much."
"You don't have to apologize for that. I know it's hard to be open about it. And I'm glad you're being open with me now," Cyrus soothed, "Good to hear it though. I never plan to leave you either, love, through death or otherwise. I love you way too much."
He gave a little smile. The intrusive thoughts had faded into the background, into a dull hum in the back of his brain. Yet, something about wielding that knife- even if it was just a kitchen knife- brought some of them to the forefront.
"Well… most of the vegetables are chopped, but… I don't think I- um… holding the knife is kinda messing with my head. I know it probably doesn't make sense, but-"
Marcus smiled softly, his expression softening at the other. "I love you too, Cyrus. A lot." He purred. "I'll be open with you for anything. I'm sorry I kept it to myself for so long."
He tilted his head gently at the other, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he spoke. Stepping aside, Marcus gently took Cyrus's hand. "That's okay, love. I understand. Would you rather cook the other things? I can finish up the cutting."
Cyrus gave Marcus' hand a gentle squeeze back.
"Yeah, sure, I can keep stirring and all that. Let me just pull up a stool. Sorry I can't even cut some vegetables without freaking the fuck out, though. It's kind of pathetic, huh?"
“You’re not pathetic, Cyrus. Don’t apologize.” He chided gently. “It’s okay to struggle with things.” Marcus had to admit the hypocrisy of his words stung a little. He believed them with his whole heart… when they were directed at Cyrus. When he was telling himself the same things, he really didn’t believe it all that much…
“Besides, if you’re uncomfortable with it, then you don’t have to do it.” He added, mostly to distract himself.
Cyrus let out a heavy sigh.
"Maybe… It's just like- all I can imagine with a knife in hand is stabbing someone to death. Which is fucking hilarious, right? Because I'm a hitman by trade. I killed people for a living. But I'd never brutalized anyone like that before. It was always quick. No hard feelings in my heart, no thought to it if I could avoid that."
He shook his head.
"Anyway, I'll go tend to the pot," Cyrus said, dragging the stool he was using off with him so he didn't have to stand for longer than he could handle at the moment.
Marcus stopped Cyrus before he could fully get to the pot, setting the stood down and wrapping his arms tightly around the other. "Don't blame yourself, Cy. Hindsight is always 20/20 and you'll always think you could have done things differently after the fact. You did what you had to with your father around. You did what you had to do with the mindset you were in. Don't blame yourself. Those situations are hard to get around and you'll always regret. But it's okay." He murmured, nuzzling against Cyrus a moment longer before he moved to set the stool in front of the stove with one hand. He helped Cyrus settle back on his feet, hands on the other's hips. "I love you, Cyrus, darling. I know you're struggling right now, I can see it, and I want you to know that you don't have to do any of it alone. I'm glad you're talking to me and telling me what's going on, I'm very happy you trust me enough with it." He sighed gently, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's forehead. "It's going to be okay now. It's you and me now, we can get through this together."
"I believe you," Cyrus replied, a look of both hurt and determination in his eyes, "I do think we can get through this together, even if it does kind of suck right now.
Cyrus leaned into the other's touch. It was always reassuring to him, and kept him just a little more grounded.
Once in a comfortable position by the stovetop, Cyrus idly sat there, occasionally giving the pot a stir as the broth started to heat up.
"I want to see if there's any way I can find someone who can do therapy for us. It's hard to come by in our position, but even if it's just a slim chance we can find that help, I think we'll both benefit if we do find it. Otherwise, we'll have to make do with medicine and each other. Which isn't a bad worst case scenario, but still. I know usually for someone with mental illnesses like ours, they would probably recommend therapy and medication."