#maliacyrus2

[hvlfwygod]

curses | cyrus&malia

date: may 8, 2020

summary: after fight night, malia and cyrus talk about their past

Since Cyrus avoided the nurse's station before leaving the Rat cage, his limbs were exceptionally exhausted. Without having the energy to dig through his bag for his keys, he waved his burnt hand over his doorknob and the deadbolt clicked open. He pushed his way into his apartment and, standing by the entrance still, Cyrus let his bag slump off his shoulder and down onto the floor where it may. He rubbed his head and turned to shut the front door behind Malia after she entered after him. "Thank you, Mal. For comin' back with me," He sighed as he kicked off his footwear. He then hesitated, almost as if he wanted to say something else, but instead he shuffled over to his room. He opened the door, leaving it open for Mal, and went to defeatedly sit on the foot of his bed. He had stopped crying on their walk back to his palce, but his breath was still shaken. He unhooked a wrist guard, then the other, and inhaled through his teeth as it tugged at the burned skin of his hand. "Fuck..." He winced and let them drop to the floor. "I am dead tired." He confirmed, continued to just sit there, and look down at his feet.

Malia locked the front door and slipped out of her shoes, then followed Cyrus to his room. She felt a little nervous and weird about coming here, mostly because she'd shown up to the fight with someone else. She had gone back into the warehouse, before leaving, to tell Jesse that she didn't plan to stay. Malia hadn't said where she was going or who with, but she thought it was fairly obvious considering she had run after Cyrus initially. But, right now wasn't about her suddenly complicated romantic life.

Cyrus never looked like this before, and her heart hurt to see it. Hovering in the doorway to his bedroom, Malia watched him pull away his wrist guards and frowned. "You didn't take any nectar?" she asked, but it felt like a dumb question because of course he didn't. She hesitated for another moment before finally walking over and settling down next to him. She put a hand on his knee, rubbing circles into the fabric with her thumb.

If it was any other night under more normal circumstances, Cyrus would have been proud that Malia decided to leave with him but he felt nothing of the sort. He was just genuinely relieved to not have to return to his apartment all alone. He frowned and responded to Malia's question before realizing she probably could assume the answer just as easily. "No, Lulu was at the station and... I don't know," Crooke shook his head and watched her hand on his knee for a moment. He then pulled off the light armor he had on his torso and let it fall to the floor with a thud. Next, he pulled off his t-shirt that had been sticking to his cooled sweat. He bundled it up and tossed it over to his laundry basket. Now with a few less layers, Cyrus felt... somehow less vulnerable and more vulnerable at the same time. It was Malia, after all, and if he couldn't bring himself to confide in her, then who could it ever be? He took her hand in his. "I had no choice back there," He brought his eyes halfway up, half-explaining, but faltered obviously afraid of something which caused him to instinctively flinch. Although there was nothing there but the two, he still squeezed Mal's hand just a bit. "I don't get to..." He sighed, pausing. "I had no reason to do that." He settled on.

The flinch broke a little spell of stillness in the room, and Malia jolted as well. She squeezed his hand back, keeping up the gentle pressure even when he relaxed his grip. She wasn't exactly sure what the best approach was for all of this. Scooting even closer, Malia pressed her forehead to Cyrus's shoulder. It wasn't clear to her if he was talking about the fight or the sudden reaction he'd just had, but she decided it was probably the former. "It was part of the game," she offered, flipping his hand over so she could trace little shapes into his palm. "In the heat of the moment, you don't realize your own strength, exactly what's going on. It's okay."

"It's not that. I knocked one of my best friends out, Mal. Shit was cold-blooded," Cyrus replied and sighed with a bit of frustration tinging his tone now. "That made me feel shitty, because I knew it was shitty. While I was even in the middle of doin' it—" He began bouncing his leg on the opposite side of where Malia sat. The tracings on his palm tickled but was a very welcome distraction. "I shouldn't have entered the fuckin' fight night, but... Gods," He cursed, rolling his eyes and scoffing. "I wanted to... have fun?" He half-heartedly shrugged in an attempt to comprehend how he was going to say what he really needed to share, but even he wasn't completely certain. "Before I entered, everything was chill. It was as soon as I beat Koda, there was literally nothing I wanted to do besides win. I could feel the fuckin' obsession. Hell, I still want to win, but I know that me in the third round is not a good idea. I said that I'm cursed," He spoke, after a sharp inhale, and leaned his back on his bed to lay down or maybe in an attempt to diffuse his nerves. "I'm fuckin' undeniably cursed, twice-over by the same goddesss too, nonetheless." He finally spat out.

Most of what Cyrus was saying made no sense to her, and she didn't think there was any version of the fight night that would have ever called fun. But she nodded along anyway, just letting him talk and get whatever he needed off his chest. She wanted to ask what he meant by obsession, but before she had the chance, he mentioned a curse. That was the second time tonight he brought it up, the first being outside the warehouse at the event. Malia shivered, scared of what this might mean.

When he laid back, Malia pushed herself a little further along on the bed so she could look down and into his eyes. "Um," she started, pressing her lips together, but fell silent when he continued. It was like a cold shot to her heart. Her face fell and her eyes widened in obvious distress. "Shit," she said quietly. "I... what?" She'd been hoping that he'd been exaggerating, though she suspected Cyrus was serious. And now, he confirmed he was. Malia felt a little sick. "What... Um, which goddess?”

Cyrus continued to lay on his back, but with his eyes closed. They stayed that way as Malia made her way more onto the bed as well. He finally met her gaze after he heard what seemed to be a hushed expletive. He was still conscious of his injuries. While looking up at her delicate features which had twisted into more of a look of distress, Cyrus still let himself wonder about her and about thoughts that he'd only toyed with before too. They mixed together until he was frowning again. "Hecate," He blinked and looked away with his own widened eyes. "It was right before everything went to shit," He explained while flexing his opposite hand that wasn't touching Malia. "I was young and thought I was being a rebel, or whatever the fuck. I was stupid, Mal..." He looked back at her, feeling bad for dumping this all on her. "I don't want to scare you." He claimed softly.

The temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees and all the words coming out of Cyrus's mouth were muffled. Malia barely heard anything that he said after uttering Hecate's name. She's gone, Malia reminded herself, she's not here, this was years ago. But it was like the goddess was standing in the corner of the room, ready to snatch her away once again. Did sharing a room with someone she cursed draw more attention to herself?

"It's okay," she said quietly. After a long pause, she shifted again, laying down beside him. "Does this hurt?" She hoped it didn't, and he could wrap his arms around her, make her feel a little safer despite the terror he'd injected into her veins. "I'm so sorry. That you were... I... I can't imagine..."

Cryus could tell that Malia was processing what he had just divulged, and he felt like his bones were rattling. Or there wasn't enough room in his body for feelings this big. He fidgeted his foot during the growing silence while he allowed Malia to pause... But he mentally scolded himself for not expressing himself more eloquently. Or maybe it was still the regret he felt for actions he took even further in the past. For a moment, Cyrus couldn't peel his stare away from looking up at the ceiling. When he heard Mal's voice, he realized again how thankful he was for her being there for him right now. He exhaled and with misty eyes once again, he forced a smile. "No, you're good right there," Cyrus answered her. After feeling the comfort of her warm touch, he moved his arm around her frame. He let his restless body be held by her and, in return, he held her closely too. "I don't want you to have to imagine it at all," He uttered and swallowed hard. "I don't even want to tell you. It's just... Fuck," He complained but continued on. "It just explains a lot. I'm not blamin' everything about myself on these two curses either, okay?" He vocalized his clarification and followed it up with a defeated sigh. "Don't think I'm doin' that. Or that I'm tryin' to weasle outta responsibility. I feel like shit, and I will apologize to Lulu in time," He didn't know who he was assuring at this point. Himself, maybe? It truly was as if Crooke's façade of this cool rebel had crumbled down and all that was left was a green-eyed young man with deeply-seeded insecurities. "It just still catches me off guard when I get backlash from something I did on impulse five or six years ago." He frowned.

I don't want you to have to imagine it at all. She didn't want to, either. She could feel some image in her mind floating to the surface but she pushed it aside. Malia could have laughed. Cyrus had come to camp after everything that happened to her. He had no idea how close he was hitting to some of the worst moments of her life. She tried to focus on comforting him again, rubbing aimless shapes into Cyrus's chest, and took a few deep, calming breaths. "I know what you mean," she mumbled. He seemed to be on the verge once again; she almost didn't recognize him with that expression on his face. "Do you know what they do?" This was dangerous territory for her to be going down, but she decided to do it for Cyrus. It was probably the first time he was saying these things out loud and she wasn't going to make up bottle them back up. She steeled herself for his answer, her heart in her throat.

When Malia said that she knew what he meant, Cyrus attempted to blink the almost tears away and willed himself to not even dare letting himself spill again. He tried to calm his own raw nerves too, mainly focusing on the intricacies of his bedroom in an attempt of distraction from his own emotions. He was aware of Malia's hand on his chest when he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. He forgot about the split lip he'd gotten from Koda, although it was dried by now. It still was the least of his worries as he let his face linger close to the top of her head still. She always carried a soft scent, almost sweet as the tenderess of her touches, and this moment was no different. "Yeah, I know what they do," Cyrus spoke softly as he finally moved his head back to rest where it had been. Talking about this topic was unfamiliar to him, unless it was with his brother; who shared the experience of getting cursed by Hecate (although their indivdual curses were different). "They're essentially hand-picked to fuck my life up the most," He continued on, swallowing hard one last time before furthur addressing the situation. "The first one, makes it so that I have to tell a handful of complete truths. Which wouldn't be that bad, but there hasn't been a day since I was fuckin', like, nineteen where I haven't done it," Cyrus finally added in confession, frowning although she couldn't see his face without looking up. "I should also apologize. For not telling you earlier. And, because I used you..." He faltered, but pushed through anyway and continued. "I'd go and tell you things a lot of the time, when I knew I had to say shit that I wasn't comfortable tellin' anyone else," He shook his head against his pillow and squeezed her frame. "I'm sorry, Mal. This is probably a conversation we should've had ages ago..."

Malia almost said it sounded exactly like the goddess she remembered, to craft something so specific and targeted. Instead, she just closed her eyes while a chill traveled down her spine. Cyrus continued to explain and she tried her best to follow along, eventually bringing her gaze up to his face once she trusted her expression. It was strange to hear him apologize, considering Malia was almost glad she never knew. Would she have been able to let herself get this close had she been told years ago? A part of her doubted it. Malia pressed her lips together. "Honestly, I don't know if I... I think I'm more, flattered that you trusted me so much, Cy." She sat up a bit, moving her hand to lightly brush down his face, her eyes misty despite herself. "I know how hard it can be to talk about... this kind of thing."

Cyrus eventually met her gaze but wasn't necessarily pleased by the expression he was faced with. She seemed effected by the secrets he was revealing and the feeling of regret was still ever so present. Even as Malia spoke and assured him that she was flattered rather than offended and he let out a breathy exhale. He shook his head, almost incredulously at the life he somehow made for himself. "The other is a curse of obsession, by the way," He attempted to gloss over the nastier of the curses. "But, there. Now, there's no denyin' that you know more about me than most," Cyrus admitted, feeling her soft touch on the side of his face. He let himself just gaze at her for a moment longer before speaking again. "I don't know how you'd know about this kind of thing. I mean, c'mon... How long have we known one another?" He questioned, pressing his tongue to his cheek. "I don't know how you'd even get yourself into a situation like this," He expressed but his voice fell silent after Crooke observed exactly what her eyes looked like. He felt his breath hitch and he ran his hand ran up and down her back in an act of comfort. "Is this all too much?" He asked with a sense of urgency and concern; moving to sit up a bit as well.

She wanted to ask him more— what did a curse of obsession even mean?— but her mind was swimming. Her hand pressed more firmly against Cryus's face while she debated with herself if she was going to say anything. This would mark the first time she talked about what happened to her with someone that wasn't there when it happened. She opened her mouth but her throat closed up immediately. Malia closed her eyes and swallowed. "I never realized how much you opened up to me, Cy," she finally said. Maybe recognizing that was why she felt like she could do the same, too. "So maybe, it's my turn? Um," she closed her eyes. "I did get myself into a situation like this," Malia mumbled. Already, she was having a fear response, just thinking about the goddess looming over her. Her eyes were stinging and when she spoke again her words shook on her voice. "Um, before you came to camp, Hecate... She... um." Malia lifted her hand to wipe a tear from her face. "She kidnapped me and, um... I was gone for like, two weeks? I'm not, I'm not cursed but, I get it. Kind of. Maybe better than others would, at least."

Cyrus saw that Malia had an obvious emotional reaction and wanted to take all his words back but he knew it was too late. Although her hand on his face was comforting, he moved to finish sitting up against his bedframe. He remained quiet as she figured out how to say what she needed to say. He just tried his hardest to give her a comforting expression but he knew she'd see the worry in it. After she was finished speaking, Cyrus let out a breath he'd been holding. "Malia, fuck..." He said, head rested back as he sighed in defeat. "I am so sorry," He apologized again and couldn't help his brain from imagining what being kidnapped by a god would entail. "Before camp?" He closed his eyes for longer than a blink, processing something, and tightening his jaw. Crooke then looked down at her, trying to speak as steady as he could. "I wouldn't have brought any of this up, if I had known... Damn it. I despise the fuck outta her so much more now. You're the last person who deserves shit like this," He let out a sharp distressed groan and took her hand in his. "The thought of you getting hurt makes me..." He assumed that kidnapping wasn't the only thing she'd endured and he gently squeezed. "I would always fight for you to be safe."

She thought saying it out loud might have felt nice, taken some of the weight off of her heart. But once the words left her mouth, Malia experienced an instant wave of regret. She barely registered Cyrus, even when he took her hand and held her closer. The room was suddenly too small, and his concern was suffocating. "I... yeah," she said. "I know. I... Thanks. Sorry, I didn't want to... um, make us stop focusing on what's going on with you." She shook her head. "I don't like talking about it. I just thought," she didn't know what she thought, now that it was too late to take it back. Gods, she felt stupid. "I guess we just have something else in common, kind of?"

"No, please, don't feel bad about that," Cyrus stated, with a dimmer concern after hearing what she had to say and assuming that she didn't want to talk about this topic anymore. "You're fine, Mal. Don't worry 'bout takin' the spotlight off me," He expressed. "I had no idea, I'm just... Surprised, I guess?" He'd somehow managed to calm down from the groaning frustration he'd expressed earlier, but it may have been just to match Malia's drop in her mood. "I knew you were strong, but I didn't think we had both been through shit and were... strong enough to be here still, y'know?" He moved his hand to the side of her face so they could look at one another. He sighed and the corner of his mouth twitched in an attempt to smile. "But, listen, if you pick something to watch, we can smoke..." He suggested and then added a little quieter. "Then I can just hold you...?"

Cyrus was talking about strength but nothing about shaking over something that happened nearly a decade ago felt very strong. Malia didn't protest this, though, and just nodded her head. She was a little nervous adding any sort of drugs into her system with her so shaken. But if anything, weed might help her calm down. "A few hits," Malia agreed, returning his smile lightly for just a few seconds. "We can watch something silly and just... yeah, I'd like that." She didn't look him in the eye for the last sentence, instead closing her eyes and pressing her face into the palm cupping her face. "And tomorrow will you let me get you some ambrosia?"

They spent the rest of the night like that, getting just high enough to relax, a sitcom playing in the background while neither of them paid much attention. Malia's regret only continued to weigh down on her as the night passed by. She hated how awful it felt, how badly she wanted to take everything back. With effort, and another hit, she managed to stop dwelling, at least for now. And eventually, with Cyrus's arms holding her close, she was able to doze off.