Don't Leave Me (Please Leave Me Scars) - Alien Stage

unknown / cure

A/N - This title is the best thing I've ever come up with, it's a lyric mashup from Unknown (Till The End) and Cure.
This was also a requested prompt! Mafia AUs aren't usually my cup of tea but this was pretty fun to write!!
CONTENT WARNINGS: gun violence, gun wounds, minor character death, first aid, and mafia/gang dealings.

Let's get one thing straight: Till never meant to join the mafia. But when you're left alone to wander the city every night as a child, you can get swept into the criminal underworld with ease. By the time he was in middle school, Till had run more "package" deliveries for the mob than some of the kids who were born into the Family. Who could blame him? It paid well, and when your dad spends more money on booze than he does groceries you take what you can get. It was a thrilling job, one that made him feel important and capable. They provided him a place to stay when his father finally kicked him out. They gave him a more practical education than school ever could. They made him feel special, loved even.

He didn't think about leaving until it was far too late.

Now he's twenty-one years old, a high school dropout, and part of the Family until he dies. Blood is thicker than water, and Till had spilled far too much of it to ever return to any semblance of a normal life. It didn't matter the mission, it didn't matter what was asked of him. He did as he was told.

Heavy maple doors were pushed open by two hired guards, ushering Till into the velveteen meeting room. It was where the higher-ups met and handed out the most important assignments. Ones that had to do with large shipments or the protection of their own. It wasn't his first time entering the room, but the feeling of terrifying awe never faded. The room dripped in elegance that only blood could buy, a single one of the chairs cost more than Till could ever hope to make up in a year.

One of the Bosses sat in one of those same chairs, twirling a glass of red wine like he wasn't even concerned about spilling it. Till only knew him as Unsha, still not trusted enough to know the more sensitive details.

"Sir," Till said, bowing his head a little in respect.

"I've been told you're good with a gun. One of the best, even." Unsha's voice was deep and gravelly, sending chills down Till's spine.

"I like to believe I am."

"Good, because you've been specially requested for this operation." He gestured to a manila folder lying on the table. "That should have all the information you need. Make sure to burn it before leaving the building. Rendezvous is at nine pm, be ready."

Till grabbed the folder and began to walk away, pausing only when Unsha called out after him.

"Make sure this goes smoothly. This is my son's first chance at leading an operation. There is no room for error."

A horrible suspicion crept into Till's mind. "If I may, sir. What is your son's name?"

"Ivan"

Of course, it was Ivan.

Till hastily read over the file and threw it into a fireplace on his way out, crumpling it into a ball first. Every time. It was always Ivan.

The pair had first met in middle school, a delivery too large for one person to carry discreetly so they sent two. Ivan was quiet for most of the trip, leaving Till to attempt to fill in the silence. Two kids walking together but not talking garnered more attention than two kids messing around and bickering. It was all about hiding in plain sight, something that Ivan had apparently never heard about. They were sent on another delivery together; and another, and another, and another. For a solid year, Till couldn't escape his side. Ivan's odd habits and stoic nature didn't help matters much. Ivan was soon brought on to help with other things, being born into the Family had its privileges, but he still made sure that Till and him went on assignments together at least once a month.