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Ethan shivered, head feeling like it had been broken in two. He was positive that he would be on the ground if rough hands hadn’t been holding him up by his restrained arms. He peeked his eyes open, fighting the surge of nausea that followed. There were four other people in the warehouse. He knew one was Cormac, he could recognize that bastard’s face from anywhere, and the other he had learned was X. The other two weren’t as significant in his mind, just some guards- though the one that’s fingers were digging into his skin was starting to get on his nerves.
“We have him, now give us the money.” X snapped, clearly impatient with Cormac.
“But, how do I know you aren’t going to take off with him and the money?” Cormac countered.
Ethan fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing doing so would send his world spinning again. He was well versed in the tiring game that was ”give me what I want first”.
Though he supposed he had done the same thing before. No one was trustworthy in the Mafia world after all.
Ethan crumpled in on himself as a coughing fit wracked his body. Cold terror washed over him again as he watched more blood drip off his chin and to the ground.
“I think the scale is tipped in our favor, Cormac.” X replied, a smirk growing on their face, “You see, Blue here doesn’t have much time left. His lungs will fill with blood soon, and you won’t have the sweet revenge you’re so hellbent on getting.”
This appeared to get to Cormac, who narrowed his eyes. His ears started to ring as Cormac gave a curt nod.
This was it.
Ethan was finally going to die.
He had thought many times about how it might happen, as the concept of death wasn’t anything new to him. Death followed him around like a shadow, consuming anyone and anything. He knew that his own shadow would one day grow tired of him and swallow him up, too, so he had never been scared of the thought of it. In fact, every time he thought of his own death, he was never sad. He wanted it to happen, so desperately. He hated himself because of the shadow. It was what killed his mother, and anyone else who dared to get too close to him.
”You have to do it, son!” His father shouted at him, his calm callousness was gone, “you know what happens if you don’t.”
He did know. He had all the scars just in case he forgot.
“I-I can’t!” Ethan sobbed back, his hands violently shaking. The knife glinted back at him, reflecting his mother’s face.
“Ethan, darling, it’s alright.” Her voice cut into his spiraling thoughts. He looked up at her, seeing the dried tear streaks on her face.
“It’s alright.” She repeated, doing her best to shuffle toward him. Her arms were tied behind her, and she was kneeling on the ground with bound ankles.
“N-no, it’s not.” He fell to the ground in front of her, earning a disapproving sound from his father.
“You’re too soft, Ethan.” He hissed from behind, “If you can’t do this one thing, you’ll never be my successor.”
“You have to do it.” His mother continued on, ignoring his father, “I don’t want you to get hurt, so you have to. I want you to do it.”
Her eyes pleaded with him as a war raged inside the boy.
“I don’t want to.” He replied, failing to muffle a sob.
“I know.” She gave a sad smile, “I love you, Ethan.”
“I love you too.” His voice shook uncontrollably, hand squeezing the knife.
Her smile was full of love and warmth, even as the knife was plunged into her heart.
Ethan’s eyes pricked with tears at the memory, and he fought them away as best he could.
He would not die a crying mess at Cormac’s feet.
Of all the deaths he was guilty about, his father's was the last on his list. After being manipulated into killing his own mother when he was just a child, it was probably the only one that had brought him a sick sense of joy.
He watched as Cormac signaled for his guard to hand over the briefcases of money. It was an odd experience seeing how many briefcases you were worth.
Someone else popped into his head as he proceeded to mentally prepare himself to die.
Mark.
He found himself smiling even with everything that was occurring.
When he first met Mark, he sure as hell wasn’t ready for how much joy the man would bring him. Every wall he had built to protect himself turned to dust around Mark. He was smart and charming and easy to talk to, and stupidly stubborn and caring. Basically a mix of everything that made Ethan melt. He made Ethan feel like a person again, rather than something to profit from. He had seen through the cracks of Ethan’s facade and hadn’t used it against him.
He loved Mark.
And he wasn’t even going to live to tell him.
His senses were suddenly assaulted as there was the sound of doors opening, gunshots, quick directional shouts, and him toppling to the ground. He groaned softly from the impact before hearing someone rush up beside him. He managed to glance up to see Mark, whose troubled face blocked one of the lights up in the warehouse rafters. It framed his head, so he looked like an angel. He smiled up at him, opening his mouth in his delirious state to tell the man he loved him. Another coughing fit stopped him before he could, however. Mark’s hands, which were much gentler than the other guard who had been holding him up, rolled him onto his side so he wouldn’t choke. There was a voice, which wasn’t Mark’s, and then Ethan was being lifted and taken away from the warehouse.
He sighed, eyes shut, knowing he was safe with Mark.