Sorry
by
Matt
luther/cropsy
I jump when the door is thrown open, hitting the wall with a bang. Luther storms in, angry, swearing and punching. I run over to him and grab his fists, making him tense up.
"Oi, fuck-ass, let me go you retarded piece of shit." shouts Luther. I shake my head silently and he growls, kicking my kneecap. I drop to the floor and silent tears fall from my eyes. I know this isn't going to end any time soon, so I just let it go. Luther starts to kick me and all I can do is curl into a ball and try not to cry out. I let Luther kick out his anger, and eventually he notices the silent sobs wracking my body.
"Fuck." he murmurs, dropping to the floor besides me. I force myself to sit up, to hold him, and it's only hard because of the bruises pooling over my ribs. I let Luther silently lean against me as I hug him. I don't know how he feels, I never do, but I know that this, whatever it is, is something he needs to function.
"Cropsy." he mumbles. I nod and rest my chin on his head. Cropsy, my near-whispered name, is as close as he ever comes to saying he's sorry for constantly tattooing my body with blacks and blues. He sighs and I know that whatever upset him is forgotten, at least for the moment. He snuggles into my chest and I sigh. He pokes one of my forming bruises and I hiss. He mumbles my name again and I sigh into his hair.
"What's wrong this time?" I ask after a moment of silence. He huffs and I press him closer.
"Nothing." he says. I sigh and squeeze his arm.
"If it was nothing…if it was nothing we wouldn't be here." I say, careful not to mention my bruises. I see anger flash in his eyes for a second, then it is simply a mix of regret and pain.
"It's just…I don't know. Can I be alone?" he asks. I nod and get up, offering him my hand. He takes it, and I kiss him on the forehead before leaving. Johnny is outside the door, staring at nothing. When he sees me he shakes his head and sighs.
"What?" I snap. He rolls his eyes.
"You and Luther, dumbass. That's not healthy." he says. I shake my head and examine my shoes.
"You think I don't know that?" I say quietly. He puts his hand on my shoulder and passes me his cig.
"I'm not calling you stupid, dude, but it sure as hell isn't a good thing, what you two are doing. Don't think we don't see those goddamn bruises. Shit the size of fucking Texas." Johnny says, grimacing. I shake my head, I know this isn't good for me, but what am I going to do? I won't let Luther waste away.
"I know." I say simply, I don't know what else to tell my brother.
"No, you fucking don't. You walk like a goddamn cripple the next day. He comes home in a rage and you just let him beat the shit out of you. Man, that's not okay. As your brother and friend, I'm gonna say that you should join a different gang. I'd say the Warriors, but that won't go over well, more'n likely Luther'd kill you. Just go, man. Join the hi-hats or some shit, no one has bad blood with them." he says, concern showing in his eyes. I smile at him and pass back the cig.
"I can't do that, Johnny. I'd do it if I could, but I just can't." I tell him.
"Why the fuck not?" he asks. At that moment, the door flies open and Luther pushes Johnny, hard, making him trip and fall into the corner of the walls.
"JOHNNY!" I shout when I see the blood staining the joint in the two walls. Luther grabs my arm and pulls me into his room, practically tearing my limb from its socket.
"YOU GONNA FUCKING LEAVE? YOU FUCKING THINKING ABOUT BETRAYING THE ROGUES?" Luther screams, throwing me to the floor. I shake my head, I hope he can see that I'd never leave him, but of course he doesn't.
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN, NO? YOU SON OF A BITCH! I HEARD YOU TALKING WITH JOHNNY ABOUT LEAVING! I FUCKING HEARD YOU! I KNOW WHAT I FUCKING HEARD, WITH MY OWN GODDAMN EARS!" he screams, crying as hard as I am. He lays in, kicking my ribcage and shins, anywhere he knows is already bruised.
"WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU LEAVE ME? DAMNIT CROPSY, I THOUGHT YOU'D FUCKING STAY!" he screams, stomping on my sides and wrists and landing a well placed kick to my neck.
"I'm not leaving!" I whimper, coughing up blood. He pauses, mid-kick, to stare at me.
"…What?" he asks, putting his foot back down.
"I'm not leaving." I whisper. He kicks my stomach again.
"Speak up, fuckface!" he shouts.
"I said I'm not gonna leave you, Luther!" I cry out. I drag myself to my feet, wincing with every small movement, every breath, and steady myself on the bed. I warily step foreword, careful not to stumble, and hug him.
"I'm not ever leaving." I tell him. He starts to cry in my arms and I sit down on the bed to make sure we don't fall.
"I heard you." he says, and I shake my head.
"No. What you heard is Johnny telling me to go. I told him I won't leave. I won't leave you Luther." I say, running my fingers through his hair.
"Cropsy…" he whispers. I nod, I know he's sorry, that he regrets what he does to me.
"It's okay." I tell him, tightening my grip around him. He shakes his head.
"No, it's not. I know you're not gonna stay forever. How could you stay with some…thing like me?" he says, sighing into my chest. I pull his head up to look him in the eye and shake my head.
"It is okay. I am going to stay as long as you want. I know what will happen if I go, Luther, and that's never going to happen. Hell, what…this is, it isn't healthy. Of course it's not, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop being there for you, even if it means I break each and every one of my ribs. I can't forget the time I left for a couple weeks to visit a cousin, and how when I came home you were curled up in a corner, crying. I can't let that happen. You saved me, took me in, and made me your Warchief. What that means is that I'm going to be there for you in any way I can. I don't give a shit what Johnny, or Dee Dee, or Tommy, or any of them think. Okay? All I care about is making sure you're okay. You don't have to suffer alone Luther." I say, tracing circles around the scar on his forearm, when Swan stabbed him.
"You're going to leave…I'm going to drive you away, like everyone else." Luther says with a sigh.
"No, you're not. Luther, broken limbs are so much better than a broken heart, and you can tear me limb from limb, rip out my heart, and break my soul, but if there's one thing I can promise, it's that, through all of it, I won't leave. I'll keep telling you this until you realize it." I say. He smiles slightly and rests his head on my shoulder.
"Promise?" he asks. I nod.
"Cross my heart and hope to die." I tell him.
"Sleep in here tonight?" he asks, yawning. I laugh.
"Sure thing." I say, pulling off my pants and vest. He does the same, and we climb into his bed. I wrap my arms around him and he sighs.
"Cropsy?" he says, quiet, hesitant.
"Yeah, Luther?" I ask, worried.
"Sorry."