The Red Market (mxmxm)

* Ch. 17 *

Tw: trauma, nightmares, and mentions of abuse
As usual there will be a tldr at the beginning of the next chapter <3

Eli's P.O.V. Continued

I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart racing and my mind blank. I frantically look around at my unfamiliar surroundings before I see Sir and Master sleeping beside me. I let out a sigh of relief as my memories flood back to me. I take deep breaths, trying to slow my heart rate back to normal as I gingerly get out of the bed, trying not to wake either of them.

I walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind me and turning on the lights. The brightness blinds me for a few seconds, before I run some cold water and wet my face. The water shocks me back to the present, my mind no longer trying to search my memories for this missing nightmare. I stand there for a bit longer, the cold water dripping from my face as I try to calm my beating heart.

Once I compose myself I wipe my face on a towel and leave the bathroom. I quietly fumble in the dark trying to find the door, my hand eventually landing on the cold metal. I slip out into the hallway, the lights now dim. I peek into the big room beside me, the giant double doors still open. I no longer see the lights from the dance floor trickling in through the windowed wall, and I find myself walking in towards the couch.

As I look around, I see the room is a giant office. The entire back wall was windows looking down on the club. Two big wooden desks sit on either side of the room, name plates on each one. The left hand desk's plate reads Marcus Fisher-Smith, the other, Conner Fisher-Smith. I think back on earlier in the night, hearing Sir refer to Master as 'Marc' so I assume that the left-hand desk would be Master's. A large circular rug sits on the floor, the couch in the middle, positioned to overlook the club. As I walk closer I notice the widows are tilted down on an angle, no doubt to be able to see the whole floor from the couch.

As I sit myself on the couch, I look down at the empty club wondering just how late it is. I sit in the darkness silently for a while before I hear a soft knock behind me. I jump from the noise, not even hearing footsteps and turn around to see Sir standing in the door way. I let out a sigh of relief, still jumpy from my nightmare I suppose. "You okay?" He asks as he walks in and leans on the back of the couch behind me. I look back at him and nod before turning my attention back to the windows.

I sense Sir walking around the couch before he takes a seat beside me. "Do you want to talk about it?" He offers.

"I'm fine," I say trying to sound convincing but failing.

"Its not good to ignore things," Sir says, aware of the irony considering he wanted me to forget that kiss earlier.

"There's nothing to talk about," I insist, not wanting him to be burdened by what I have to say. Instead of saying anything, Sir just places his arm around my shoulders and it doesn't take long until I crumble, too tired to keep my composure. Tears roll down my face as I cry into his shoulder and tuck my knees into my chest. He rubs big circles on my back, surprisingly comforting to me. He doesn't talk further, letting me cry into his chest until I'm ready to talk.

I try to stop myself from crying more, not wanting to bother Sir with my emotions but the more I try to hold in, the more tears pour out. About halfway through I realize that I can't remember the last time I cried like this. Its had to have been over a year, at least, maybe more? I do remember crying almost every night for my first few years in the market, but I thought I had come to terms with everything by the time I reached 16, but I guess not. I can faintly think back to the first few nights with him, I must have been 18, 19, at that point? I had cried myself to sleep every night for a few months at least. I can barely remember the mornings after, though I know it must have riled him up from the noise.

As Sir rubs my back his other hand taps rhythmically on the side of my legs, keeping me from spiralling. Eventually my sobbing stops, though tears still stream down my face. Sir continues to tap on my leg giving me something else to focus on, as I continue cry, my chest now aching. As sir continues to tap and rub my back I'm able to find composure and sit back up. I use the giant sleeves of my shirt to wipe my face, trying to take deep breaths. "I'm sorry," I say, my voice cracking and weak.

"No, you're not allowed to apologize," Sir says, his hand on my knee and bending over to look me in my eyes. "You don't have to tell me now, or even ever, but just know that I'm here for you, and that goes for Marcus as well," he continues, tilting my head up to look at him straight. I nod, extra tears escaping my eyes as I don't trust my voice to thank him. "Its up to you, but I think you should try out therapy," he suggests.

"I'm not broken or anything, I don't need fixing," I say, the thought of pouring out to a complete stranger making me feel nauseous.

"No, of course you're not. Therapy isn't about fixing whats broken, its about learning how to deal with your brain and memories, so you can live life," He tells me.

"Maybe," I say, wanting to drop it now and talk about it later.

Sir nods, satisfied with my answer and kisses the top of my head. Before I really register it, I find myself wrapping my arms around him, hugging him close to me. He squeezes me back and my heart swells, feeling safe for the first time in my life. "I'm sorry," I say, my voice muffled by Sir's torso. I feel his head shake before telling me I'm not allowed to say that and I smile slightly.

As I retract from the hug, I let out a huge yawn, exhausted from the crying. "Tired?" Sir asks, a soft smile on his lips. I nod my head as I yawn again and Sir adjusts himself completely on the couch, sitting across the cushions before patting his chest for me to lie down. I don't hesitate, curling on my side, my head resting on his chest. He holds me close, his thumb rubbing circles on my arm as I fall asleep to the beating of his heart.