Meaghan

BTA Chapter 18

Author’s Note: Yeah, the cycle’s all wrong. Whatever. This is the end of this; can you believe it? The chapter is mostly to show how Dylan’s going to have to help fix Marco up, and isn’t so sure he’s ready to deal with a broken Marco, but he realizes he’ll have to try.

Marco managed to survive through half of the wake, but when he saw everyone crying, including his father, he told Dylan he couldn’t make it anymore.

“Marco,” said Dylan, trying to be understanding, “maybe you should try to—"

“Please take me out of here,” he interrupted, completely decided already.

Dylan, not a bit reluctantly, took him outside for air, holding tightly onto his hand the entire way. They sat down quietly on the sidewalk while Marco breathed, trying to calm himself down.

“I’m sorry I’m putting you through all this,” said Marco, his voice muffled, considering his face was in his hands. “I really am.”

Dylan smiled sadly, putting his arm around him. “Don’t worry. I’m here for you.”

Marco gratefully accepted the embrace, holding onto the warm body beside him. “I love you,” said Dylan quietly, kissing the top of his head.

Marco froze, unable to answer. What was he supposed to say to that? He couldn’t say those words again, and the thought of them only brought his ex-boyfriend to his mind. “I’m…” he hesitated, wondering what to do.

Dylan seemed to sense his anxiety. “You don’t have to answer,” he assured him. Marco was thankful for that. “Just know that I do, very very much.”

“I know,” he mumbled, just enjoying the feel of Dylan’s care and protection.

Marco sat with him for a while, letting himself fall again for Dylan’s charm without a second thought. Finally, guests started to pour out from the door behind them, needing Marco and Dylan to move to let them through,

“Marco,” said his father, not asking why he’d left. “You should put a coat on. It is cold out.”

Marco rolled his eyes, but took the extra coat from his father’s hand. It was very cold out, which was to be expected in February.

“Listen, can Dylan and I take a walk?” asked Marco, looking at his father hopefully. “I just don’t want to go home right now.” He hoped Mr. Del Rossi would understand.

His father nodded curtly, waving them away. “Don’t be too late,” he told them, and moved to speak with the other family members about his wife.

Dylan and Marco walked down the block hand in hand while Marco kept his eyes down on the ground. He wasn’t sure exactly why he was holding so tightly to Dylan’s hand or why he felt safe doing it, but with Dylan he had a tendency to feel that way. Just safe. He didn’t pay any more attention to their swinging hands by his side.

“I wish,” said Marco slowly, still looking down, “that I could go back to make sure I never ended up with him.”

Dylan didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure he was supposed to, so he let Marco continue. “I mean, all I’ve got to show from that damn relationship is cuts, bruises, and a few lasting scars.”

“I know,” said Dylan softly, crossing the street with him. “Let’s get something to eat.”

Marco had to admit he was hungry. He’d been too nervous and depressed to consume anything all day, and his body didn’t quite agree with that idea. “Have you ever been to that place before?” he asked, pointing to the restaurant down the block.

“No, I’ve pretty much lived at The Dot,” he said, chuckling.

“Let’s go there. We won’t see anyone we know,” said Marco, walking more quickly toward the unknown place.

Marco and Dylan were seated at a table towards the back, and they agreed it was a nice enough place to come back to.

“Maybe they put us back here because they realize we’re gay,” said Marco suspiciously.

Dylan couldn’t contain the laugh he let out, but realized that Marco was completely serious, so he sobered up. “You’ve become so paranoid, Marco,” he said gently, reaching out to touch him, but Marco backed away immediately. “That only proves my point,” he said sadly, trying not to be offended by Marco’s not-so-subtle move.

“So, you’re still afraid of it?” asked Dylan. “I thought you’d become more accepting of yourself,” he said, taking a sip of his water.

“Guess you were wrong,” said Marco, shrugging. He refused to look Dylan in the eyes. Out of embarrassment or pain, he wasn’t sure.

“Marco,” said Dylan, getting Marco to finally glance again at the older boy’s face. “Please look at me.”

Marco struggled to, but he did so grudgingly. “Why?” he asked.

Dylan leaned forward a bit, reaching his hand up to push the hair out of his eyes. Marco visibly flinched.

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Marco?”

“Just…” Marco knew he was being stupid. Dylan would never ever hit him. He’d had many chances during previous arguments, but he never had, and he never would. “Sorry,” he muttered. He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for being afraid of him or for the strange sense that he’d done something wrong that he would be punished for. Damnit, if he heard he was paranoid one more time, he’d scream.

Dylan looked hurt. “Marco, I’m not Corey,” he said firmly.

“I know,” said Marco. “I—I know!” he said, raising his voice. For the first time, no one turned to look at him because of the disruption.

“Then, why do you sometimes treat me like I’m going to reach out and hit you!” said Dylan. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m being insensitive. I am trying to—"

“You’re not. God, I don’t know, Dylan.” Marco’s voice broke as he tried to speak. “I want to leave.”

“We can’t just—"

“Leave, please?”

Dylan sighed. Dealing with Marco was going to be a lot more difficult than he’d thought. “Let me just…talk to the waiter, then. You wait outside.”

Marco did as was told, and waited outside of the restaurant, leaning against the wall for support. His friends said he could trust Dylan, and, well, they always seemed to know best when it came to Corey. Hell, he even knew he could trust Dylan, but for some reason, he wasn’t doing it.

He also felt like he’d had this talk with himself far too many times. “Hey,” said Dylan, coming up behind him.

Marco managed to only jump a bit. “Are we going now?” he asked.

“Guess so,” Dylan replied, moving to put his arm around him.

“Umm…could you not?” asked Marco. He tried to make Dylan understand that he wasn’t shooing his arm away, but Dylan still didn’t understand. “It just hurts there,” he told him, annoyed that he had to spell it out for him.

“Oh,” said Dylan. “Oh, right.” Dylan never liked to get on the topic of Marco’s injuries.

“You know,” said Marco, walking back across the street with his companion, “if you’re interested in starting something with me, you’re going to have to be more open about my…issues.”

“They’re not your issues. They’re Corey’s,” Dylan spat his name out like a curse word.

“He caused them, yes,” said Marco sympathetically, “but, Dylan, I understand if you’re not ready to be with me, someone who’s not…whole anymore, not trusting or eve—"

Dylan cut him off with a kiss. “I’m never ready for anything,” said Dylan with a slight laugh after he’d pulled away, “but I’m not walking away from this.”

“Neither am I.”

Author’s Note: Yeah, so I can’t believe it ended there. Perhaps I’ll write a follow-up, but not now. I’ve got way too much going on lol. Pleeeeease review :)

BTA Chapter 17

Author’s Note: So, I’m seriously trying to take my time with the seventh book because I know this is the last one. All of the others I finished in, oh, one day. This one is, however, the ‘big one’, so I’m reading it as slowly as possible, forcing myself to stop every once in a while, which is unusual for me. Besides the book, though, I have a lot going on, so I’m going to try to update as much as possible, but it will be hard. Bear it? Please? And, another thing: I know I was supposed to update Someone To Heal before this, but I’ll get back on track soon. Sorry…you know, if you mind. :)

Marco woke up crying. He couldn’t remember the last time he had actually done that; it must have been years, and the realization made him feel like such a child. Ellie and Dylan had long since taken their leave. He had dreamed of his mother, and the fact that it was such a pleasant dream made him feel even worse. Things hadn’t been pleasant for years.

Marco got out of bed, deciding there was no way he’d be able to fall back to sleep at that point, and he walked around his room, trying to will away his sad feelings. He supposed it took him a little bit of time to really understand that his mother was gone from his life forever. She would never comfort him again, hug him again, tell him everything would be all right. The scariest part was simply that she would never be there again, to just sit, have some coffee, and wish him a good day at school.

Marco felt he was somewhat crazy to want to rush into a relationship with Dylan after everything that had happened, but he also felt that Dylan would make things easier on him. He could be his comfort.

Marco left his room, deciding it would be a good idea to have a little snack to, perhaps, make him feel better. He walked downstairs, catching his father along the way. His father gave a somber nod, holding out his hands to allow Marco to go into the kitchen first. However, when Marco sat down, he felt he’d lost his appetite.

“All right?” asked his father, sitting down with a glass of water.

Marco nodded, even though he wasn’t okay, but his father seemed to understand.

“I think missing a few days of school wouldn’t hurt you,” said Mr. Del Rossi with a tone of determination.

Marco looked up at him, appalled. “Dad, I’ve missed days for the hos…I guess you’re right,” he interrupted his own thought. “The last thing I need right now is to hear them all talking about me.”

His father nodded, and they fell into an awkward silence. The only sounds were of Mr. Del Rossi carefully sipping his water, and Marco tapping his fingers on the table.

“Funeral…wake?” said Marco. He didn’t trust himself speaking full sentences.

“Wake will be tomorrow night. The funeral the day after,” he replied.

Marco nodded, looking around the kitchen. Somehow, everything reminded him of his mother. He touched his side gently subconsciously, hoping it might cause pain. He didn’t deserve to be here when his mother wasn’t.

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can’t either,” said his father miserably.

If Marco had only told his parents earlier, or even his friends, what Corey was doing… He gave up on that thought. He obviously hadn’t, and there was no point crying over spilled milk, was there?

“I’m sorry,” said Marco abruptly.

“Stop apologizing,” said his father sternly. “I don’t want to hear it anymore,” he sighed.

Marco couldn’t just stop because the only words revolving in his mind were constant apologies and regrets. He couldn’t blame Corey. As far as he was concerned, the world would have been better if he’d only died from the shot. Perhaps, his father would miss him. Maybe even Dylan, but Dylan would get over it. Marco knew he would.

“I’ll just go upstairs.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” said his father, staring down into his empty cup.

Marco could hardly think as the memory of his mother falling came before his eyes again. He stopped on his way up the stairs, sitting down on the step, punching his forehead with his right fist, trying to push the memory out of his mind.

“Stop!” he screamed, kicking the banister, and banging his head against the wall on the opposite side. “Just STOP!” He stopped his self-mutilation, crumpling his whole body in a ball, just letting himself cry. He obviously couldn’t kill the memory, so he had to learn to deal with it.

When morning finally came, Marco realized his father must have carried him to his bed because he knew he hadn’t moved from his spot on the stairs. He knew his dad had heard his screams, but he ignored them. Apparently, his behavior was natural, according to the doctors, anyway.

Marco rubbed at his eyes tiredly, glad that he’d gotten an hour or two of sleep, knowing it was better than nothing. He yawned, picking up his new phone, raising his eyebrow when he saw Dylan had called.

Realizing it could be something important, Marco dialed his cell phone number quickly, waiting apprehensively through two rings.

“Hello.”

“Hey, it’s Marco,” he said, getting out of bed. “You called.”

“I did,” he replied with an exasperated sigh. “I feel I should tell you something.”

“Yes?” Marco asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Dylan struggled to get the words out of his mouth. “I—I, well, I think I may be the reason everyone knows about Corey.”

“Wh—why—how?” asked Marco, confused. “Dylan…”

Dylan sighed. “Well, I wasn’t responsible for everyone, but I was…upset, so I might have let it slip…a person or two about the Corey situation. Someone asked what was wrong with me, so…”

Marco closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. He wanted to blame Dylan for telling people, just like he wanted to blame Corey for killing his mother, but for some reason, the blame always came back to him. Besides, he couldn’t afford to be angry with his protector. He took a deep breath.

“At least I know,” he said, though he wasn’t too happy. “Could you come to the wake this evening?” he asked, successfully changing the subject.

“I’d love to,” said Dylan. “I mean,” he started, realizing how dumb that must have sounded, “I wouldn’t love to go to a wake, but I mean, if you wanted me to go, I’d be quite—"

“Dylan,” said Marco, rolling his eyes. It felt nice to laugh a bit, but it also made him feel guilty. “I know what you meant.”

“Just come here about four, please,” he said softly. “I have to go.”

Marco didn’t wait for Dylan to say good-bye, just hung up immediately. He walked over to the drawers next to his bed, emptying them one by one.

Pictures of he and Corey, presents from Corey, just little memories of Corey fell out onto the floor.

He picked up a note Corey had handed him on his way to third period on the last day of school.

I love you, right? And you love me. What’s the big deal about it, anyway? I don’t know why you’re against it. We’ll have fun. It’s just about a good time, baby. I wouldn’t hurt you, and I definitely wouldn’t want to have to force you.

Marco crumpled the letter, and threw it into the trashcan beside him. “Yes, Marco, I’ll continue to love you if you sleep with me,” grumbled Marco as he pulled out something else.

His bracelet. He’d taken it off after Dylan basically forced him to dump Corey. He played with it in his hands for a moment before throwing it into the can as well. Anything that could possibly have anything to do with that boy had to go. He was slowly pulling him out of his soul.

Marco picked up the next item: a picture. It was taken on the beach, and it had always been special to him because it was rare that he and Corey would go anywhere besides inside one of their houses. Corey didn’t like to be out and about. But that day, he took Marco there, and they’d spent hours just lying together, and taking pictures. It was the one day he and Corey had truly connected. (Author’s Note: Ugh, I hate the beach…anyway)

He didn’t bother looking at the rest; he simply scooped everything up, and threw it away. He was done with Corey. So completely done.

Marco found himself in front of the mirror again, straightening his clothes, and covering his bruises before the wake. The night was about his mother; he didn’t need to hear questions about his own safety. He wrapped the long bandage around his stomach before pulling his shirt back on.

“You ready?” asked Dylan, popping up in Marco’s doorway.

Marco turned around after seeing him in the mirror. “Not at all,” he said truthfully. “Dylan, I don’t know if I can see her.”

Dylan frowned sympathetically, opening his arms widely for Marco. Marco graciously accepted the hug, leaning his head on Dylan’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he said, unsure if it would be. “You don’t have to even look.”

“I do,” he protested, pulling away from him. “I have to see my mother before the funeral.”

“Come on, let’s go downstairs,” Dylan suggested, attempting a smile as he helped Marco out of the room.

Author’s Note: Kill me for just stopping on that note, I know. Anyway, after I finish the seventh book, which I’m quite surprised at the willpower I’ve shown in not finishing it yet; it’s been difficult, I’m going to start a Harry Potter story. I haven’t written Harry Potter in a long time, so it’s rather exciting that I’m seriously drawn to it right now. I hope many will read when it comes out, despite all the other stories I have going. :)

BTA Chapter 16

Author’s Note: Having some minor issues and things I have to do, so updates may be a bit irregular over the next week or two. By the way, actress2bjess, that was a very interesting review. I’m so glad you like it so much…lol, just relax a bit.

Marco heard the door open again, glad to see that his father had done his bidding by bringing Dylan in.

“You wanted to see me,” he said unsurely, shifting from one foot to the other.

Marco nodded. “Hi, Dylan,” he said, trying to smile, acting as though everything was okay.

“Hi,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at Marco.

Marco usually felt insecure when someone was scrutinizing him, but the fact that Dylan was so plainly ignoring him felt even worse. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, afraid Dylan wouldn’t hear him.

Dylan heard him, and finally turned to look at him from his new position beside the window. “Marco, you have nothing to be sorry about,” he said, looking concerned.

Marco nodded, feeling more tears come to his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to stop crying. “It’s all my fault.”

“You didn’t know he’d come to your house,” said Dylan, walking over to his bedside, kneeling next to him. “It wasn’t your fault, Marco.”

“I should have just broken up with him a long time ago,” he said, wiping at his eyes.

Dylan grabbed Marco’s hand while it was in the air, holding it tightly in his own. “Marco, don’t blame yourself. If anything, it’s my fault.”

Marco had to laugh at that. “How could it possibly be your fault?” he asked, sitting up, ignoring the pain.

“Maybe if I’d asked you out last year like I planned,” he said regretfully, “things wouldn’t have come to this.”

Marco motioned for Dylan to sit on the empty portion of the bed, still holding onto his hand the entire time. He sighed. “Look, I’m kind of glad this happened…not to my mom, but…to me.”

Dylan waited for him to continue. “Well, see, my eyes would have never opened otherwise. Besides, now that he got arrested, he won’t be doing it to anyone else,” he said with a shrug.

Dylan looked at him for a moment before speaking. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?’

Marco smiled slightly, and then quickly tried to pretend it didn’t happen. “So, you were going to ask me out,” he said conversationally.

Dylan rolled his eyes. “We’re talking about you here.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” Marco replied.

Dylan licked his lips, as he often did when he wanted to pretend he wasn’t embarrassed. “Yes, I was going to ask you out,” he said.

“And…?” prompted Marco.

“And I just didn’t.” Dylan really didn’t want to talk about the previous year. Ever.

Marco wasn’t satisfied with his answer. He pulled Dylan closer to him so that they were sitting right next to each other. “Why not?”

“Things just…fell apart, I guess,” he said, shrugging. “Look, I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable saying no.”

Marco shook his head, frustrated. “I wouldn’t have said no.”

“Thanks for clarifying that,” said Dylan. “I mean, these past few weeks…I haven’t really been sure of how you felt.”

“I can’t have a boyfriend right now,” said Marco immediately, making sure Dylan knew that. “I really can’t.”

“I understand,” said Dylan sympathetically, letting go of his hand. “See, now you’re not ready, but then you were,” he laughed. “Let me know, okay?”

Marco smiled, glad to have Dylan in his life. “I will.”

Marco jumped when he heard a knock at the door, and a head peeping in. “Mr. Del Rossi?” she said tentatively.

“Come in,” he said.

“Nurse?” Dylan mouthed.

Marco rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said. “Maybe I can go home today.”

Dylan kissed Marco’s cheek, not stopping to wonder why or if it would bother him, and then he got out of the room to let the nurse do whatever she needed to.

The nurse came to stand in the spot where Dylan had just left. When her hand came near his side, he visibly flinched. “Do…you have to?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so,” she said sadly. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Marco turned away, leaving his side open for her and his eyes closed. It truly felt like she was snipping away at his skin, and he sincerely hoped she wasn’t.

Once the woman was done tearing him apart, she helped him turn back over, and smiled. She actually gave him a true ‘I’m so happy you’re in pain’ smile, and Marco was overly sensitive to anything at that moment. However, he kept his mouth shut, and he tried to smile back as he watched her leave the room.

“Umm…wait,” he said before she opened the door.

“Yes, dear?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“When can I go home?” he asked.

“I’ll talk with someone, and you’ll know later on,” she replied. “I’m sorry, but it’s not up to me.”

Marco nodded, letting her leave. When he really considered it, Marco had a lot to think over. For instance, Dylan was a big part of his mind, and he couldn’t see any way of holding back a relationship with him forever…but a part of him also didn’t want to see Corey fall straight off the face of the earth, well, Marco’s earth.

Besides that, Marco had to admit he was terrified to start another relationship. He trusted Dylan, of course, but the thought of being with another man as he had been with Corey frightened him. He also had the notion somewhere deep within himself that Corey would find out, and he would do something terrible out of anger. Even though Corey would be far away from Marco for a very long time—if not forever—he couldn’t get rid of that fear, no matter how hard he tried to.

In fact, trust had become a really difficult concept for him because, even though he did trust Dylan, he had also trusted Corey…which made for a serious dilemma.

Marco ran his hand through his hair fretfully. What was he going to do?

………………………………………………………………………………….

After a week, Marco was allowed to leave the hospital. He had to come back three weeks later to have the stitches removed, but he was simply glad to be free of the little room that had quickly become an enemy of his.

“Need help walking?” asked Dylan. Without waiting for an answer, he wrapped his arm around his ‘friend’s’ waist protectively as Marco was about to fall.

Mr. Del Rossi, Marco, Ellie, and Dylan had all arrived on the morning of his release to get him home. Unfortunately for Marco, he had a feeling his days of being babysat were not over.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but still let Dylan help walk him to the car.

Mr. Del Rossi, too distracted to care, ignored the two behind him, and started the car as they all piled in.

“Hey, I’m not going to have to sleep when I get home, am I?” asked Marco, knowing that was what usually happened whenever he got out of the doctor’s office or, in this case, hospital.

“We’ll see,” said his father quietly, keeping his eyes on the road.

Ever since Marco’s breakout of ‘why am I still alive?’, Marco and his father hadn’t spoken another word of Mrs. Del Rossi’s death. Marco knew it was bound to come up at some point, as it should, but he wasn’t looking forward to it. His guilt was still alive in him, and he supposed that if he ignored it all, it might disappear. His mother might not really be dead. Denial makes things better was the philosophy he was going to go by for a while even if he’d always been against it.

Ellie was silent, but her hand rested supportively on Marco’s thigh as they drove with her eyes facing out the window.

Dylan caught his eye, and put his hand down over Marco’s. “You okay?” he whispered.

“…think so,” he said hesitantly.

Dylan didn’t push him any further. When they arrived, he helped Marco out of the car, not paying any attention to Marco’s constant exclamations of, ‘I can do it’, and no one else said a word.

The house felt empty to Marco. It didn’t matter that his father was still there or that Ellie and Dylan were in there with him; it felt cold and lonely, and he didn’t like it at all.

“I’m going upstairs,” he announced, grabbing the railing. “I want you,” he pointed to Ellie, “to come with me.”

Dylan was pretty sure that meant that he wasn’t supposed to come, but he also was pretty sure he didn’t want to have a conversation with Mr. Del Rossi. He’d already had enough awkward discussions with him to last a lifetime.

Fortunately, he was saved the trouble because, as soon as Marco and Ellie went upstairs, Mr. Del Rossi went down the hallway to his bedroom without a word. He was left standing at the bottom of the stairway, alone, in his hopefully-soon-to-be-boyfriend’s house. If Marco wasn’t so lost with everything in his world, Dylan was sure he’d have been more understanding of the fact that…leaving Dylan down there alone was quite an odd decision. Dylan knew he’d apologize later on.

“So, let me get this straight, you’re afraid of Dylan…after all that he’s done to help you?”

“Well, think of it like this. Maybe…maybe he just wanted to take me away from Corey because he—so he could…okay,” Marco paused, sitting down next to Ellie on his bed, “I know I’m being insane.”

“You are,” she said bluntly. “Dylan would never ever hurt you.”

“It’s just…all of a sudden I have this horrible feeling that if I’m alone with him, it’ll be Corey all over again,” he said, shaking his head. He knew it was irrational, but the fear wouldn’t leave him be. “I’m so scared, El.”

“Dylan will be the best thing that happens to you,” she assured him, laying her head gently on his shoulder. “You just need to trust him.”

Marco rolled his eyes. “Ellie, I thought you’d understand that I can’t right now. I can’t trust anyone. No one except you, which is why I’m telling you this.”

Ellie smiled. “I know, and I’m not trying to push you, just help you.”

Marco got up from the bed, shoving his hands in his pockets, being careful to avoid his side. “You were there before Paige became my friend, before I met Dylan, before I came out, before Corey…you’ve just always been there, and you need to help me trust again.”

Ellie shook her head. “I’m here to help with anything you need, Marco, but gaining trust again—that’s all you. I’m sorry.”

“So, you’re saying I should give Dylan a chance?” he asked.

She nodded. “And, promise that next time, if there is a next time, someone touches you, you tell me right away, so I can beat the bloody crap out of him, got it?”

Marco laughed, holding his arms out for her to hug him. “I love you, Ellie.”

Ellie accepted the hug, and then pushed him away roughly. “You,” she jabbed him in the chest, “never promised.”

“All right,” he said, chuckling slightly. “If someone…” he hesitated, “hurts me, you will know right away.”

Author’s Note: Next chapter…some Darco action.

BTA Chapter Fifteen

Author’s Note: Sooo sorry! I updated this on fanfiction days ago, and I forgot to put it here! Sorry for the wait then

Because of the shock that came from the gunshot, Corey let go of Marco easily, letting him fall to the ground beside his mother. He rubbed his hand across her cheek.

“Corey, what did you do?” he asked, turning around to face Corey who looked more shocked than Marco. “Corey!”

Corey didn’t answer him. His eyes were wide, and he dropped the gun by his side, feeling his throat dry up completely. Marco looked desperately at him. This was a nightmare, a nightmare of the worst kind.

Marco grabbed the phone off of the catty, assuming his mother had never reached the emergency line, and he dialed. Corey watched in a daze. “Don’t tell them what happened,” he finally managed to mutter. “We just came here, and found her.”

Marco ignored him. It didn’t matter anyway because they didn’t ask what the situation was. They simply asked his name and where he was, then told him they were on their way. Marco knew someone would have stayed on the line with him, which would have made him feel better, but he decided not to ask. Corey would get suspicious.

He hung up the phone, holding his mother’s limp hand, praying that she would be okay. This was all his fault, all his fault. “Marco, she’ll be fine.”

Marco looked up at him incredulously, letting tears spill down his face without a care. “Corey, why did you do that?” he asked. He really didn’t want to know. “Why?”

“Marco, you’re all that matters to me,” he said quietly.

“Well, my mother matters to me, Corey!” he shouted, holding his hand to his chest because he didn’t think he could breathe. He anxiously played with the cross that hung around his neck while he silently continued his prayer. Let her be okay.

The police arrived, shortly following the ambulance and fire engines. Marco felt like the entire world was just staring out their windows to see what was going on.

“My mom,” Marco said immediately to the first person who walked in, “she—I don’t know if she’s…” Marco couldn’t force himself to say the word ‘dead’.

“What happened?” asked an officer while another man and woman tried to help Mrs. Del Rossi onto a stretcher, leading her out to the ambulance car.

“I need to go with them,” he said, still allowing more tears to come to his eyes. “Please,” he begged the police officer, “let me go with them.”

“I just need to know what happened here,” he said, putting a hand on Marco’s shoulder.

Marco looked at Corey, then to the gun on the ground. “Don’t,” Corey mouthed, “you dare.”

Corey slowly picked up the gun again, pointing it at Marco’s back that was now turned to him. “He shot her,” said Marco.

Corey’s mind froze, and with the police officer’s eyes on Marco’s face intently, Corey pulled the trigger a second time before the officer could even register that he’d picked up the gun.

It looked like Marco would be riding with his mother after all.

When Marco arrived at the hospital, only half-conscious, even subconsciously, he knew he didn’t want to let his mother go somewhere without him. He held her hand, only letting go when a nurse pulled him away, taking him to a room of his own. By the time they reached the room, he was finally out.

“He’s going to be okay, right?” asked a nervous voice from above him. Marco could barely make out whom it sounded like in his confused state.

“The doctor said he’d be fine,” said another.

“He was shot! No one is ever ‘fine’ after being shot!”

“Well, not fine, but—"

“Stop!” Marco knew that voice.

Marco groaned both tiredly and with pain. His body was so sore. He was just glad he could open his eyes. “I’m okay,” he mumbled, trying to sit up.

“Sit down!” his friends shouted immediately, and he felt himself being pushed down by four or five people. There went that idea.

He closed his eyes, and opened them again, helping himself see more clearly. “Marco,” said Dylan, the first to really speak to him. “Marco, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried,” he laughed a bit, trying to hide how concerned he really was.

“Is there something under these sheets I don’t want to see?” he asked, holding his hand over his side that was stinging slightly.

“Stitches,” said Dylan, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we let this happen to you.

Paige nodded in agreement. “Just because we couldn’t be at his house…it all,” she let her voice fade into a whisper, “happened.”

“Corey’s got bad aim,” said Marco, rejoining the conversation. “I’ll be okay.”

Paige looked at him tearfully. “You are sitting in a hospital bed, Marco. I just…”

The situation came back clearly to Marco. He sat up quickly, ignoring the searing pain that went through his side. “How’s my mom?”

Marco took that second to recognize who was in the room with him. Paige, Dylan, and Ellie had come, as he expected, and Craig and Ashley were there. His father wasn’t in the room. Had he been told what happened?

“Well, I brought you your new phone,” said Dylan, handing him the cell phone he bought him.

Marco rolled his eyes. He knew, if Dylan bought it, it had to be unnecessarily expensive. “Dylan…” he said slowly, seeing everyone’s facial expressions.

Dylan looked away from him, so he raised his questioning eyes to the others. “What’s going on?”

“You tell him, Ellie,” Paige insisted, pushing her closer to Marco’s bed.

Marco had a bad feeling about what she was about to tell him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know anymore. She kneeled down by his bedside, pushing him back to lie down again. “Marco, your mother is dead.”

Marco blinked, staring at the wall behind her, uninterested in looking into her eyes. He’d never felt so horrible in his life. It was all his fault…all his fault.

He couldn’t even cry; he honestly didn’t know what to do at the time. “Marco?” said Ellie, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“Where’s my dad?” he asked, taking his eyes off the wall, turning to look at the ceiling instead.

“He came, saw you for a bit, heard the news, and…well, he said he’d be back,” she said, feeling as though she wasn’t the right one to be telling him any of this.

Marco covered his eyes with his hands, wishing it would become possible for him to will away the replaying scenes in his mind.

“I want you to leave,” he whispered, trying to sound polite.

“Ma—Marco, I’m sorry,” said Ellie, standing up.

“I meant all of you,” he corrected, noticing that she seemed to think she was alone. “Just go, please.”

His friends knew better than to argue. They all looked unhappy to leave, but they did so willingly, not saying another word. They looked guilty, and Dylan had said he felt it was their fault. He felt they had ‘let it happen’.

They were so very not at fault; Marco was. He took complete blame, and what was worse was he had gotten his very own mother killed. The only good news was Corey had probably been arrested, and he wouldn’t be touching him ever again.

Marco heard a knock at his door. He hoped it wasn’t a nurse. “Come in,” he said, swallowing difficultly as his lip began to tremble. He was going to cry.

When the door opened, Marco was presented with a terrible, sorrowful, version of his father in the room. “He—hey, dad,” he said, letting the tears start to fall as soon as he saw the older man.

Mr. Del Rossi rushed over to his son’s side. “Marco, what happened?” he asked. “That boy—he was your friend, right?”

Marco nodded, covering his face with his hands. He’d ruined everything, and he was so ashamed. He knew his bruises were showing, knew his father was probably wondering if it had happened all on this day, but he didn’t care. He didn’t even know what to say.

“Pa, I want…want to fix what I’ve done,” he said, feeling more worn out than he’d ever had.

“Marco, you did nothing.” For a man who’d lost his wife, he was quite all right. Marco assumed it was because he was trying to stay strong for his son. “You didn’t know what he was capable of.”

Marco watched as his father pulled up the chair from the other side of the room, bringing it over next to his bed. Marco took his hand immediately. “Dad, I did. I did because…I don’t even know how to say this.”

There was just so much. His father didn’t know he was gay, didn’t know he’d dated Corey, didn’t know he was in love with Dylan, (though to be honest, he didn’t really need to know that part) didn’t know the things Corey had been doing to him, and he didn’t know…that his mother knew. If he had known, would he have made an effort to come home earlier for Marco? Or maybe he would have avoided him out of hatred for who he was.

“I don’t know where to start,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Dad, I need you to promise…we lost mom, so we need to be with each other, no matter what, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, squeezing his hand. “What is it?”

“There’s quite a lot,” he said, looking back at him. His father nodded for him to go on. “Corey was my—my abusive boyfriend, dad.”

So, he figured he’d put it all down in one sentence. Abuse, boyfriend…and hopefully, his father could pick up on the fact that boyfriend meant not girl.

Marco closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see the look on his father’s face. “Why did he do this?” he asked. “Was he crazy?”

Marco shrugged. “Maybe,” he said, defeated. “I don’t know why I care about him!” he shouted suddenly, making his father wince.

“Marco, it’s okay.” He was surprised his father was being so understanding. Perhaps it was just because of the death.

“He killed mom. He killed her, dad, and I still care about him,” he said. Marco had voiced it. He’d said aloud that his mother was dead. He wasn’t sure if he could breathe right anymore.

“Why am I fine?” he asked. “Why.am.I.fine?” he asked angrily. “I just have a couple stitches!”

“Marco, relax,” said his father, letting go of his hand. “The police said that Corey wasn’t interested in hurting you. He just wanted to make you stop talking. That’s why you’re…” he paused, “why you’re okay.”

“He always says that,” whispered Marco. “Dad, are my friends still here?”

“Yes,” he replied, standing up. “You’d like me to get them?”

“Just send in Dylan, please.”

Author’s Note: Please review.

Breaking the Attachment Chapter Fourteen
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Author’s Note: It begins to get kind of intense, so beware. I’ve kind of been planning this chapter for a while…so I had to get it just right before I posted it.

“Do not see him again, Marco.”

The words repeated over and over again in Marco’s mind as he tried to sleep. He wasn’t quite sure whether it was Corey speaking about Dylan or the other way around, but it scared him nonetheless.

Trying to sleep during the afternoon had become quite common for him due to his inability to get any at all during the night. He had to make up for it somehow. Marco rolled over onto his other side, pulling down the shade over the window by his bed, doubting he’d even shut his eyes for more than a minute.

People were talking about him. Ellie told him she had a feeling it had been Corey who let it out, but he just wouldn’t believe it. Why would Corey want to get himself into deep trouble or…just simply have people hate him? It didn’t make any sense, and there had to be a much more logical explanation, a more reasonable way people found out.

Marco got out of bed, giving up on the idea of actual sleep. It was completely useless. He ran a hand through his air, walking out into the kitchen. Was his mother still not home? Oh, of course not. It was only four. Marco thought he’d at least rested for a bit more than just ten minutes.

Hearing the front door open, Marco curiously raised an eyebrow. His mother wouldn’t be home yet. Perhaps, she had come home earlier because of the given situation, and maybe she was worried about Marco.

“Mom!” he called out, slightly paranoid. His mother would have called his name already if she was home. He anxiously moved back into the direction of his room after getting silence after his shout.

It wasn’t even like he could grab the house phone if there was a problem because it was in the living room. He definitely didn’t want to go in there. Marco was sure it was nothing. After all, he remembered a few months back, his cousins had fooled around, trying to scare him, and it had worked. If he just relaxed, it would turn out to be nothing.

Then again, Marco didn’t seem to be able to relax about anything lately. “I—my dad is in the basement,” he said warningly.

He didn’t actually know what to say, but that seemed like something weak. Had he sunk so low? Could he no longer defend himself? He knew the gay bashing and Corey had taken a toll on him, but really…he wasn’t that pathetic, was he?

Marco heard a low laugh from the living room. “Your parents don’t get home until later, Marco.”

Marco closed his eyes. If he could get to the phone, he could call the police on a murderous lunatic…but he didn’t think he could for Corey. He knew his parents’ schedules? Stalker?

“Corey,” whispered Marco, hoping he could hear him or that he would just stay in the living room alone, “please go home,” he begged.

Corey finally walked into the room, looking worse than Marco had ever seen him. His dirty blond hair was a mess, and his eyes were red, looking as though he hadn’t slept in ages. He honestly looked crazy. The worst part of all was…

“Hey, baby,” he said, his voice as sweet as it could be.

…was he held a gun by his side.

“I know you didn’t want to break up with me,” said Corey, “so I’m willing to forgive you for the mistake.”

Corey walked closer while Marco walked backwards out of the kitchen to his room. “Why are you walking away, Marco?” asked Corey quietly, a far away sound to it.

Marco closed his eyes, praying that this was a dream, and he’d wake up somewhere else. He didn’t think he could breath. ‘Come home,’ he said inside his head. ‘I need you to come home.’

Marco didn’t have any idea what to do. “Co—Corey, it…it wasn’t a mistake,” he said, trying to be brave, but any bravery was hard to achieve when a boy had a gun in his hand without anyone else around.

“I don’t want to shoot you, Marco,” he said, realizing where Marco’s eyes had drifted.

Marco had now arrived at his bedroom door again, walking back in carefully, Corey still following very closely behind.

“Why—why do you have a gun then?” he asked, wishing Dylan had given him his cell phone earlier.

“Just a precaution,” he said. “Like, in the case that you won’t come back to me, which I know is not going to happen, right, Marco?”

Marco was breathing in and out slowly, knowing that, unless someone threw the door open at that moment, he had to get back with him, and risk an even more abusive relationship…or be shot to death. Hell, Corey would probably shoot him even if the door opened. Depending upon who walked in, he might even be killed faster.

“Save me,” Marco mouthed up toward the ceiling. There was nothing else he could do.

“You never used to be afraid of me…not until he convinced you I was bad, Marco,” said Corey, playing with the gun in his hand. Marco tried to keep his eyes off of it.

“Wh—who?” asked Marco, buying for time. Maybe if he stalled long enough, his mother would come home.

“You know very well who,” spat Corey, disgusted by merely talking about Dylan. “He’s the wrong one in this situation. You know that, right?”

Marco nodded, coming to a point where there was nowhere else to go. He was backed up against his wall, all but tied up.

“I—I love you, Corey,” he said affectionately, reaching his hand out nervously to touch his face. Corey turned his head away.

“Then why did you leave me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Dyl—Dylan told me to, and I…I was afraid not to,” said Marco, making it up as he went. Stalling was working for the moment. Even if he had to promise Corey he’d be with him forever, kiss the hell out of him, and make some undying vow of love, he’d be able to call the police as soon as his mother got home, and be rid of him forever.

“See, he’s just bad news,” said Corey, holding Marco’s hand with his free one. “Be with me again, Marco.” He didn’t ask; he demanded.

Marco knew that if he just kept lying to Corey about his feelings, he could get Corey to calm down, but he still felt guilty about making it seem as though he didn’t like Dylan. He involuntarily shook as he felt Corey’s hand creeping up his arm. “You want to go somewhere?”

“How did people find out, Corey?” he asked, hoping for even more time. When was his mother coming home?

“Find out about what?” he asked, taking his hand off Marco’s arm.

“What you…our…problems,” he said, looking down at his feet. There was the gun, flipping around in his hand. If only he could grab it…throw it outside or something stupid like that, just get it out of his presence.

“Problems…” he repeated, looking puzzled.

Marco shook his head. “Never mind,” he mumbled. If Corey was going to pretend he’d never done anything, Marco didn’t want to cause a fight.

“Come on, baby. Maybe we should go somewhere,” said Corey, slipping the gun into his back pocket, and taking Marco’s hands.

“Uh-huh,” said Marco slowly, glancing at the clock on the wall. His mother would be home any second, and Corey wanted to leave before she got there. Marco had to admit, as he did many times, he wasn’t stupid.

Corey took Marco’s hand, leading him out quickly into the living room. “Corey, not so fast. Jeez,” he rolled his eyes. All Corey wanted to do was to get out there, and all Marco wanted to do was stay there until someone came home.

As soon as they arrived into the living room, the door clicked open. Marco breathed a sigh of relief, but quickly tensed up again. What was going to happen? Corey wrapped his arms around Marco’s waist tightly, signifying he wasn’t going to let him go.

Mrs. Del Rossi walked inside, obviously not expecting to see what was before her. She dropped her bag. “What is he doing here, Marco?” she asked, looking strangely at the way he was holding him. She reached for her cell phone conspicuously

Corey’s one arm became tighter, as he let his other one pull the gun out of his pocket. “Don’t,” he warned, pointing it at her.

Mrs. Del Rossi visibly shuddered. She stared at her son, enveloped in Corey’s arms, looking terrified and broken. It didn’t matter that there was a weapon facing her. Her son was in trouble.

She dialed 9-1-1 on her cell phone. Corey wasn’t sure whether or not she’d even pressed the call button yet before he pulled the trigger, a loud bang echoed through the house. Corey was armed and dangerous.

Author’s Note: Please review.

Current Mood: distressed

BTA Chapter 13

Author’s Note: Some people are freaking out that they ‘missed’ how Manny found out. Don’t worry; no one knows yet. You’ll find out…but not in this chapter.

Marco didn’t know what to do. As he walked the halls to find a bathroom, he couldn’t help but feel everyone was staring at him. It was an irrational fear because no one really was, and when Manny had said it was going around, Marco wasn’t sure to whom it was going around. How was it going around?

Where was Corey? Who had done this to him? Marco felt sick when he finally walked into the boys’ bathroom.

He looked at himself in the mirror, having covered up all of the scars, bruises, and cuts, he looked absolutely fine, but for the first time, he felt that his friends could see beyond the cover-up. He felt that strangers could see the damage done, and they were not so secretly laughing at his pain, his misfortune, but most of all, his own stupidity and weakness.

He rinsed his hands in the sink, remembering not to splash his face with the cold water. Dylan told him that things would get better after he got rid of Corey, but they only seemed to be getting worse.

After his attempt to calm himself, he walked out of the bathroom, heading back to the cafeteria. Again, he walked through the hallway of doom, where he could feel the eyes on his back. Did he even know these people?

Marco could see Paige making her way out of the cafeteria just before he got in. “Paige, what’s up?” he asked, confused.

“Dylan’s on the phone…he called me to speak to you,” she said, handing her cell phone to him. “I’m on the case about Manny, by the way. Don’t fret.”

Marco nodded, following her inside. “Hello,” he said cautiously. Was Dylan angry with him?

“I’m sorry,” said Dylan immediately. “I understand that you want to be treated independently, and I’ll respect that.”

Marco couldn’t believe this. Dylan was treating him so much better than he deserved, and yet, he was apologizing for it. “No, I’m sorry,” said Marco. “I just don’t want to be helped anymore.”

Marco walked over to the windowsill, ignoring all the strange looks he was getting from students that showed how much they ‘cared.’ “You went to class, right?” he asked, a small smile creeping its way onto his face.

“Yes, I did,” he said proudly. “I have to go to another one, but I was thinking…”

“Yes?” Marco asked, turning around to face the window instead of the curious stares.

“Okay, the place where I got my phone is really close, and I hate calling you on my sister’s phone, and I’m sure it’d be much easier on everyone if I just picked you up another,” said Dylan. Marco could hear in his voice that he was shrugging nonchalantly when, in actuality, it was a pretty big deal for Marco.

“Absolutely not. A few days without a phone for me will be all right,” said Marco, unsure if he enjoyed Dylan’s attention or not. “You’re not spending a dime on me.”

“But—"

“We have something more important to talk about,” Marco began. “Dylan, everyone knows,” he said, frustrated and hurt. “How do they all know?”

Dylan was, to say the least, angry. He hated to know that Marco was so pained by the whole matter, and he just wanted to help. How the hell did the world find out?

“I don’t know,” said Dylan. “Look, I have to go, but when you get home, call me.”

Marco sighed. He didn’t want Dylan to get off. He wanted to feel protected. One second, freedom and independence was his priority, and the second later, he wanted Dylan to just tell him he was there for him, to tell him everything would be okay, to tell him that he was going to make sure he never had to see Corey again.

“O—okay, if you must,” he said sadly, obviously not trying to conceal the pain in his voice. “Don’t get me a phone,” he reminded him.

Dylan rolled his eyes. “I’ll try.”

“Dylan!” Marco exclaimed, laughing.

Dylan remembered this. Instant flashbacks came to mind from before Corey, when Dylan and Marco would speak on the phone at least ten times a week…before Dylan graduated, and before Marco really knew who Corey was.

“Sure,” said Marco. “Sure, and then you’re going to become a big hockey star, leaving all us little people behind,” he teased.

“Speak for yourself,” said Dylan, stretching out comfortably on his bed, “you’re the only person I know below three feet.”**1

Marco was highly affronted by the statement. “Three? Dylan, that’s horrible. Besides, I may not have height, but I got other things going on for me,” he said. It wasn’t until he said it that he realized it probably sounded weird to Dylan.

“Such as…how cute you are?” asked Dylan, clearly flirting shamelessly with the younger boy.

Marco blushed, glad that he couldn’t see him through the phone. “I was talking about how I have a brain, and you don’t, but that works too.”

“Now that was mean,” said Dylan, not sounding the least bit offended. “You’re a cold man. So, I can’t believe that I only have three more weeks until graduation,” he said excitedly.

Marco tried to sound happy for him as well, pushing a particularly long piece of hair behind his ear. “I know,” said Marco. “University of Toronto, right?”

“Yeah,” said Dylan, realizing, for the first moment, that it might not be as easy for them to talk anymore, and they would no longer see each other everyday. “I’m—I’m going to miss you,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, me too,” said Marco. “But I’ll call you all of the time, and we can still hang out.”

Dylan smiled. “Of course, silly. You’re pretty much my best friend.”

Dylan didn’t stutter a bit saying it, of course, but he really did wish they could be more. He’d considered asking the younger boy out quite a few times, but nothing about it seemed right. Besides, Dylan was sure Marco was still trying to deny who he was to himself and everyone around him. He wasn’t ready for a boyfriend. Dylan sighed. Would it ever happen?

“And I’ll help you move if you want,” Marco added. “Hold on, I’m being called from the other room,” he said, putting the phone down on his pillow.

Dylan was going to do it. When Marco returned, he was going to officially ask him out on a date, and maybe he actually was ready. Dylan was just underestimating him.

“Back, sorry,” said Marco, breathing heavily. He’d obviously run to get back to their conversation. “Dylan?”

“Hey,” he said. “Marco…”

“Yes…? said Marco, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d love it if you helped me move,” said Dylan. He chickened out.

“Oh…well, yeah, I’d love to.”

Dylan hadn’t asked him out that night, and Marco didn’t help Dylan move. They also didn’t call each other or spend time together as Marco had promised they would; Marco didn’t know Corey was going to come into the picture, after all. He didn’t know that he’d be forced to spend time with one person and that one person only.

“So, yeah, I have to go,” said Dylan again, coming back to the current phone conversation.

“Right,” said Marco. “Bye, Dylan.”

“Bye.”

Marco walked back over to his table, hiding his face behind his hands. Didn’t the other students have anything more important to stare at?

“Did you hear about him? That’s Marco Del Rossi,” said a pretty brunette girl to her friend quite literally behind Marco’s back. “He—"

“Excuse me?” said Marco, irritated, turning around. “Would you care to tell me this wonderful story?”

The two girls, obviously embarrassed about being caught, scurried away down a different hallway, not answering Marco’s question. He shrugged, walking to his locker. He’d made it through the day. He was used to rumors, anyway, but it hurt terribly when a person was right behind him, talking to her friend about it as though he would be just fine with that.

He opened his locker numbly, grabbing the books he needed, and shoving them despairingly into his bag. He often went through changes based on Corey. Sometimes, he was angry with him (like at the current moment because he didn’t know who to blame for people finding out). Sometimes, he was upset because they simply couldn’t work things out, and Marco did really want to be with him.

Sometimes, he was happy. It was all over with. Granted, this thought didn’t come around very often in the amount of time he’d been done with Corey. Nonetheless, it still came sometimes, the happy, free feeling. However, that’s when he’d feel suffocated again by people trying to protect him from this new freedom.

He didn’t know how he felt because he didn’t even know what he wanted.

“Hey, Marco,” said Ellie, coming up behind him. “You’re going to ride the bus with me, okay?” she said quietly, looking down. Marco could tell that she knew his feelings very well about the constant protection, and she tried to do it inconspicuously.

He threw his bag over his shoulder. “Okay,” he said, trying to sound perfectly fine with it.

When Marco got in the house, he immediately picked up his phone, glad to see that neither one of his parents were home yet. He wondered, while Dylan’s phone was ringing, if his mother had talked with his father about Corey. A part of him hoped so; that way, he wouldn’t have to explain it, but a part of him wanted to be the one who told him. Either way, they were going to have to have a talk.

“Marco,” said Dylan.

“It is,” said Marco, though he knew Dylan wasn’t asking. They barely ever said a proper ‘hello’.

“Don’t kill me,” said Dylan. Marco could just imagine what he was doing, biting his lip cutely before he released the blow. What he did.

Marco knew him oh-so scarily well. “You bought me a cell phone, didn’t you?” And Marco was probably the only boy who would be unhappy with such a gesture.

“Yeah, I did,” said Dylan, “and I’m not very sorry,” he added stubbornly. Marco was sure his arms were crossed over his chest.

“What can I do? Ask you to take it back?” he sighed. “Well, I do have to thank you. Even though I didn’t want it, it’s sweet.”

“I like when you say I’m sweet…” Dylan had obviously been expecting Marco to yell and scream, and then force him to take it back.

There were four days, sixteen hours, and twenty-six minutes left until Dylan graduated. Marco honestly couldn’t believe it.

“Don’t kill me,” said Dylan. When their conversation started out like that, it could never be a good thing.

“What’d you do?” Marco asked cautiously, doubting whether he really wanted to know.

“Umm…” Dylan started, “I kind of told Paige that you uh…liked that boy, Corey, was it?”

“Paige! Dylan, why did you tell her?” he asked, groaning. “And I don’t know if I really like him…I just—"

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but I figure…I want you to be happy, so just try to ask him out or something,” said Dylan. He couldn’t believe these words were coming out of his Marco-loving mouth. “He’d be crazy not to like you.”

Marco smiled. “You’re sweet,” he said, making Dylan smile. He could always get himself out of trouble with a line like that. Besides, Marco was prone to let anything he said slide because he was so worried about his leaving him after graduation. Dylan wasn’t so sure he was happy with him getting a boyfriend, though.

“Dyl?” said Marco, breaking Dylan out of his reverie, walking down memory lane for a bit.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks…just,” he didn’t know what to say. Things were far from perfect, and he was still slightly scared of what was to come, but he knew Dylan would be there for him. “Just…” he repeated, “thanks.”

Author’s Note: Please review :) I’m going on, like, a two-three day trip starting Tuesday, but it’ll be short, and I promise I’ll still be writing chapters for all of my stories, including this one. Fear not.

Current Mood: cranky

BTA Chapter 12

Author’s Note: Here it is. So, you guys have won me over. I’m going to continue Anytime is Good, just not now because the plot really isn’t the same as The Definition of Happiness, anyway, so who cares if they both have male pregnancy?

Marco shivered silently, watching as Dylan blew up an air mattress for himself. He’d insisted that Marco should sleep on the bed, considering he was the guest. Marco had been too tired to argue, and he knew that Dylan really didn’t mind giving away his comfort at the moment.

“Can I ask you a question?” asked Marco, hoping he wouldn’t get a wise remark about how that was a question as well.

“Sure,” said Dylan, pulling a blanket for himself out of the closet. “What’s up?”

“How much school have you put off for me?”

Dylan pushed the pesky blond curls out of his eyes, making it clear that he wasn’t going to answer by searching his bookshelf for a movie. Yes, the bookshelf had a single book at the end of it. The rest were movies.

“What do you want to watch?” he asked.

“I want you to answer me,” said Marco, feeling so sorry for how behind Dylan must have been.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Dylan. He put his hands on Marco’s shoulders. “I’ll go back tomorrow,” he said, rolling his eyes. “What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care,” said Marco, walking over to the bed. Dylan watched him take off his shoes silently.

“You can wear something of mine,” said Dylan.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, looking down. He knew he should call his mother. Though she knew where he was, she didn’t know he was staying.

Dylan handed him a large white t-shirt, and Marco said, to avoid complication, he’d just sleep in his boxers. He didn’t need anymore than the shirt from him.

“I’ll just go to the bathroom, then,” he said. There were worse things he could be doing, of course, than staying in Dylan’s room while the older boy changed. But he figured the best plan would be to let him change alone.

After changing, Marco stayed in the bathroom to call his mother who seemed reluctant to let him stay at the Michalchuk’s house, but she knew they would make sure he got to school without Corey becoming a problem, so she gave him her permission.

Marco knocked on Dylan’s door, afraid he’d walk in on Dylan changing. “It’s open,” he called, so Marco knew he was done. Or assumed, anyway.

“Hey,” he said carefully, walking in.

Dylan frowned. He had almost been able to forget the way Marco’s face looked during the few minutes he’d been gone. It was like every time he saw him, everything came back. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like for Marco, having to look in the mirror every morning. Of course, he had the pain to deal with in addition to that.

“Do you hurt?” he asked. It wasn’t until Marco looked at him in confusion that he realized his question didn’t make that much sense.

“I mean,” he restated, “do you—are your…okay, are you in pain?”

Marco couldn’t help but smile at the look of pure concern in Dylan’s eyes. “I’m okay,” he said. “I promise,” he added, seeing that Dylan didn’t look entirely convinced.

Marco stood in the doorway while Dylan sat on the bed, his legs hanging over the mattress. It took Dylan a moment to sense what was wrong with the scene.

“You’re allowed to come in, you know,” he said, waving him in.

“Oh,” said Marco, blushing. Everything Dylan said seemed to make him think twice about the next thing he’d say. Though, he had to admit, ‘oh’ was a pretty brilliant thing to come out of his mouth.

“So, why don’t you?” asked Dylan, raising an eyebrow.

Marco didn’t answer. He walked further into the room, closing the door, and taking a seat on the bed. Dylan pulled his legs up from their hanging position up closer to his chest. He made space for Marco to sit next to him, and they both laid their backs against the headboard.

Dylan chuckled. “My shirt fits pretty well on you,” he said, smiling.

Marco pushed him playfully. “We get it. I’m short and skinny,” Marco rolled his eyes wearily.

“What are we watching?” he asked.

“You never told me what you wanted,” Dylan pointed out.

Marco leaned into him, barely comprehending the words being said. He was exhausted. Dylan ran his hands through Marco’s hair, making Marco even more tempted to just let himself sleep.

“You okay there?” asked Dylan, smiling down at him. Marco nodded into his shoulder, his eyes half closed.

“Long day,” he replied.

“It definitely has been,” Dylan agreed. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said softly.

Marco snuggled up closer to him, and Dylan was sure he was just barely listening and hardly awake.

Dylan sighed as Marco mumbled incoherently into his chest. He wanted to know what was going on with them. Were they just friends? They’d kissed twice, and Marco knew how much he cared about him, though he’d never actually said he felt the same way. What was he to assume?

“Marco,” he said, checking if he had finally fallen dead to the world.

Marco didn’t answer, so he decided the rest of their conversation could be had at a different time. He gently pulled away from him, putting the pillow behind his head, and climbed down to the air mattress.

“Night, Marco,” he said, turning off the light.

“Why is Paige taking the bus?” asked Marco, getting in the car with Dylan to drive to school.

“She’ll meet up with you when I drop you off.”

“Right, the babysitting,” Marco muttered, genuinely unhappy about the idea. “Well, wouldn’t it be easier if you drove her too, then?”

“She tends to sleep later than me,” said Dylan.

“Hmm…never would have thought. After you take me, you’re going straight back to your school,” he told Dylan sternly.

“I got it. I got it, mom,” he teased, starting the car.

“Aren’t you worried about everything you missed?” he asked, leaning back against the seat.

“No,” said Dylan, opening the window. “I am worried about you, however.”

Marco rolled his eyes, turning away from him. “You don’t need to be. You made me stop the whole…relationship.”

“But you’re still not happy,” said Dylan, “and I know a part of you still wants to be with him. That’s what worries me.”

“Could we just not talk about this?” he asked, looking out the window.

“We have to talk about it at some time,” said Dylan, becoming frustrated. “It’s like every time I try to help you…” He paused, shaking his head.

“What?” Marco asked, but Dylan just sighed. “Tell me. What? Every time you try to help me, I act like this? Defensive? Upset? It’s because I’m fine.”

“Wow, that makes a hell of a lot of sense,” said Dylan, rolling his eyes. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you, okay?”

“Then, just…stop. I don’t want to talk about Corey, okay? I’m done with him. Whatever.”

Dylan sighed, biting his lip. “I thought you were stronger than this.”

“Guess you were wrong,” said Marco, not sure how much longer he could stay in the car with him. He was so damn confused.

Neither one of them said another word for the rest of the car ride. Dylan pulled up by the side of the school, watching Marco get out of the car.

“Have a good day,” he said sadly.

Marco slammed the door. “Look, all I want is to be independent.”

“Fine,” said Dylan. “Then I won’t help you next time you’re clinging to me with tears running down your cheeks because that really shows how much help you don’t ask for.”

“Oh, whatever,” said Marco, crossing his arms, and walking into the school. He actually thought their plan had been foiled, and someone forgot to meet him, but he was proved wrong. The moment he walked in the double door entrance, Paige stood inside waiting for him, her hand on her hip, looking just as tired as he was.

“Hey, hun,” she said, pulling her back off the wall. “Sorry I missed you this morning. How’d you sleep?”

Marco walked quickly past her, wanting to block out every other person in the world. He was sixteen years old. He didn’t need all of this protection, and that is exactly what he had tried to tell Dylan in the car.

“Look, there’s something wrong with you,” said Paige, catching up with him, gently touching his arm to stop him from walking away so hastily.

“There’s nothing wrong, other than the fact that I’m sick of people worrying,” said Marco, walking even faster.

“Maybe if you’d been able to stop Corey from beating the hell of you yourself, we wouldn’t be so worried!” she yelled. She knew it was a stupid thing to say, but she had to say something to get him to turn around, and she didn’t always think before she spoke.

“So, you do think I’m weak!”

“No,” she said, “No, that was a stupid thing to say. Listen,” she took Marco’s hands in her own, “I know you were scared, and he made you feel a certain…way, whether or not it was love, I don’t have the right to say, and I don’t think you’re weak. It’s just…look, when I saw you like all bruised and broken like that, it hurt really badly. We just want to make sure it never happens again.”

“I used your cover-up again this morning,” said Marco. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nope,” said Paige, letting go of his hands. “Another thing you have to understand is…Craig and I kind of feel like we let you down. It’s not that we think you’re fragile, but as much as we want to help you, we also want to feel like we’re doing something.”

“So, you’re trying to make yourself feel better?”

“Put words in my mouth one more time, Del Rossi. One more time.”

“Fine,” he sighed, giving up. He watched her angry face quickly turn into a smirk.

“So, anything going on with you and you-know-who?” she asked, as they walked at a newly steady pace.

“Your brother?” he asked. She nodded emphatically, not trying to hide how much hope she had for him. “I don’t know how I feel. I don’t think I’m ready.”

“I understand,” she said, leading him into their English classroom. “Just relax.”

Marco passed through the first half of his day in a blur. He couldn’t believe he’d had yet to see Corey. Was he in school? Avoiding him. He sat through his history class, the last period before lunch, playing with the pen in front of him, watching it roll back and forth. He simply couldn’t concentrate on the teacher. All he could think about was Corey, and occasionally, the thought of Dylan came up as well. Why did he have to be so cruel all the time? Dylan cared. Was that so terrible? He was too caught up in his own thoughts to realize that people were whispering about him all around the room.

Marco sat down at his lunch table, along with the rest of his friends. They seemed to be uncomfortable around him, not speaking a word. He felt like his Corey problem hurt everyone. He felt responsible for everything.

Marco leaned his hand across the table, covering Ellie’s. She met his eyes for the first time that day. “You’re my best friend, El.”

She smiled, hoping that was a sign that everything was going to slowly go back to normal between them. She gently squeezed his hand with her own. “Love you so much, Marco.”

It was such a simple statement that she’d said many times to him. They were best friends, after all, but at that moment, it meant so much more. She didn’t say she was worried, or that she couldn’t believe he’d let it go so far, hell she didn’t even say she wanted to help. She knew that he knew she would without saying, and she would just be there for him in any way that he needed. The most important part was, he had her forgiveness for his basically abandoning her. She wouldn’t hold him to that.

The two had normal conversation with each other for the rest of the period, the others not minding in the least that they were being ignored because Marco was talking again, smiling again, and he even seemed more like himself again. However, someone always had to drop a bomb.

Manny Santos, a completely unexpected girl in the school to come to him at such a time, made her way over to their lunch table, looking troubled. She took a seat next to Marco, making Ellie raise an eyebrow in his direction.

He shrugged, turning to look at the dark haired girl next to him. “Something wrong?” he asked.

“I just wanted to say that I heard about what happened, and I’m so sorry,” she said sympathetically.

“What?” he asked loudly. Paige turned away from her conversation with Hazel to ask Ellie in a whispered tone what was going on. Ellie, however, didn’t answer, but gestured for her to see for herself.

“Everyone has been talking about it,” she said, lightly touching his shoulder. “I just wanted you to know that, even though we’re not best friends, I’m here for you if you need me.” She looked around at those sitting with him for a moment. “Although, you have plenty of people who I’m sure would be willing.”

She got up from the table, most likely about to walk back to her own. Marco surveyed his friends carefully. “Guys…”

“None of us said anything, Marco. Really.”

Marco laid his hand on his forehead, wondering who could have possibly been spreading the word about him. It wouldn’t have been Corey. There was no way he’d want people to know about it.

Marco slowly arose from the table, claiming that he needed to use the bathroom. He couldn’t have people staring at him. He just couldn’t. It would make everything so much more painful, let alone absolutely humiliating. As if he didn’t feel pathetic enough.

Author’s Note: Please review, especially since I wasn’t entirely sure about how this one turned out :( I need some reassurance… Anyway, I hope you liked it. I was going to post it sooner, but I lost power due to a thunder storm.

Current Mood: cheerful
Current Music: You're My Home, Billy Joel

BTA Chapter 11

Author’s Note: Here’s the next chapter. Sorry this took so long. I had unexpected business to take care of lol.

“Dylan,” said Marco, knocking lightly on his door. He hoped the older boy would answer for him, though he probably wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to.

“Dylan, it’s Marco. Please open up,” he said hopefully.

Marco could hear him getting off his bed and nearing toward the door. He held his breath, still feeling that same nerve-racking feeling every time he saw him. Given the current situation, it was even worse.

“Marco,” he said with a curt nod.

“Can I come in?” he asked, fidgeting.

Dylan looked at the state of him, forgiving him almost instantly. He sighed. “All right.”

Marco walked into the room with him, taking his usual seat on the bed. Dylan sat down next to him, patting his knees awkwardly, waiting for Marco to begin.

“Dylan, you know me so well,” said Marco nervously. “Yet, you’re the only person I have trouble talking to.”

Dylan put his hand comfortingly on Marco’s shoulder. “You can talk to me about anything,” said Dylan. “Even Corey…”

“I don’t want to talk about Corey,” said Marco quietly, looking down. “I feel so guilty just being here without him knowing my whereabouts.”

“That’s a problem, Marco,” said Dylan cautiously. “Don’t feel guilty,” he instructed, allowing Marco to lean into him.

Dylan gently ran his hands through Marco’s hair, enjoying the silence. “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly.

Dylan shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You were scared to blame him,” said Dylan.

Marco pulled himself away, turning toward Dylan instead. “But you were just trying to help. You always try to help me,” he said, smiling, “and I never tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“Well, you know how I feel about you,” said Dylan, shrugging. Marco was so close, but he knew better than to try anything given the situation.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” asked Marco sadly. “Corey would have never come into my picture.”

“I didn’t think you were ready,” said Dylan, looking down, considerably embarrassed. He’d never felt such strong feelings for any other guy.

“Well,” said Marco, moving closer, “I was.”

Dylan’s mind shut off; he wasn’t thinking. All he knew was he had to kiss Marco at that moment. If not, he wasn’t sure if he’d get through the day.

Dylan leaned closer still, so that his lips were merely an inch apart, finally closing the gap between them. He felt Marco immediately respond by holding onto him tightly. The two of them forgot about everything for a moment, everything but each other.

Marco pulled away, his eyes still closed. “Wow,” he whispered. He shook his head, coming back to reality. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said.

“Marco, I want you to call him…to tell him you can’t be with him anymore,” said Dylan.

Marco finally opened his eyes. He shook his head quickly. “No, Dylan,” he said angrily. “I can’t believe you’d—"

“I’m not doing this so we can be together,” said Dylan, taking his hands in his. “I’m asking you to do this to protect yourself.”

Marco thought it over. He could be with Dylan, someone who meant so much to him, but he’d have to give up someone else he loved. If he broke up with Corey, he would be able to live without all the control, though he liked to think that his friends only imagined the severity of his beatings.

However, if he broke up with Corey, what would Corey do? Would he be upset, angry, murderously so? Would Marco ever see him again? More importantly, would he be happy or unhappy if he didn’t? He was so scared.

“So scared,” he mumbled, moving in closer to Dylan. Dylan instinctively wrapped his arms around him, kissing his head.

“I’m here. Don’t be scared,” he said.

“Don’t…just don’t,” started Marco, unsure of his words. “I want to call Corey.”

Dylan went to his desk to grab his cell phone, handing it to him, and then quickly resumed the previous position.

Since Dylan’s arm was around him, he could feel Marco’s body shaking against his own. He ran his fingers soothingly along Marco’s arm, trying to subside the tremors. Marco was still afraid to make that call, but sitting there being calmed by Dylan was, well, it was the first time he’d felt truly cared for in a long time.

“Hi, Corey,” said Marco quietly. Dylan could feel his body beginning to shake even more. “It’s Marco.”

“Hey, Marco,” said Corey nervously. “Your mom didn’t…call the police on me, did she?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not home. Core…Corey, I—I can’t,” he closed his eyes, leaning further into Dylan, “do this with you anymore.”

Dylan quietly shushed him, holding him tightly as he started to cry. “I can’t let you…let you control me anymore,” he said, swallowing painfully. The last thing he needed was Corey hearing him cry.

“Marco,” he said, “don’t do this,” he pleaded. “You don’t mean it.”

Marco nodded, even though Corey couldn’t see him. “I do,” he said softly, hoping that Corey didn’t notice how broken he was.

“Then, why are you crying?” he asked. “You are upset about doing this,” he said confidently. “Therefore, you shouldn’t. You know you need me, Marco, and I need you.”

“No, I don’t,” said Marco, though he didn’t believe what he was saying. He turned to look at the older boy who was holding onto him so lovingly. “And if I do, I need to break away, Corey. I’m…I’m afraid of you.”

Dylan knew how hard it was for him to talk about this with Corey, and he knew how difficult it also was for him to admit that he was afraid. Marco liked to pretend to be brave for everyone. Dylan was glad he was finally able to see that it was okay to show his weakness sometimes.

“I can’t be with someone who tries to force me to give up his own life,” said Marco, still crying harder than ever. “I just can’t.”

“I’ll stop,” Corey promised. “I didn’t realize I was hurting you so bad. You never said anything.” Marco understood that it was true; he hadn’t. It still didn’t excuse him, though.

“You should have known. Corey, you made me into someone I’m not,” said Marco. “You took away so much from me that I don’t know if I can ever be back to normal.”

“I’m sorry,” said Corey. “I really am. Please don’t do this,” he begged.

Marco knew that he was sorry for the moment, but within a few hours, he would be angry with Marco for breaking up with him. Marco couldn’t let himself give in, and he was happy Dylan was with him because Dylan wouldn’t let him.

“Corey, I can’t see you anymore, be around you anymore…and I’m not sure I love you anymore,” he said, feeling his heart break as he said it. What did Corey think of him now, and why—why did he have to care so much what he thought, anyway?

“I love you, Marco,” said Corey. Marco prayed to himself that he didn’t hear him crying. Corey had problems, and Marco couldn’t deal with them, so why did he have to feel so badly about breaking it off with him?

“No, you don’t,” said Marco, sounding confident about something for the first time. “You don’t love me, Corey. You just want me as some possession. You want to own me.”

Dylan couldn’t help but feel proud of Marco for saying that. Marco was beginning to understand that Corey’s ‘love’ wasn’t real. He hugged him, urging him to go on. Marco smiled slightly.

“I have to go,” he said. “Don’t call back.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” asked Corey angrily. “After everything we’ve been through, you can’t just leave me. Damnit, Marco!”

“Don’t yell at me,” said Marco, his voice becoming weak again. If Corey started to scream at him, Dylan knew Marco wouldn’t be able to fight back. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” said Dylan, warning Marco that, by saying that, he was putting fuel in the fire. “As long as you feel bad, he controls you.”

“Listen to me, Marco,” said Corey threateningly. “Do not speak with that…guy. He is putting insane ideas into your head.” Marco bit his lip.

“Corey—"

“No more fucking nonsense!” Corey screamed. Dylan took the phone away from him, turning it off.

“Marco,” he said tenderly, letting go of him.

“That’s not going to be the end of it, Dylan,” said Marco, looking down at the floor. “He’s really mad.”

“I know,” Dylan agreed, nodding. “Listen, you have to stay with one of us until we figure out what to do with Corey. He sort of…made a threat about well, you and me.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Just promise you’ll be with someone at all times until we get some kind of order against him?”

Marco shrugged. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Marco, stay here tonight…please,” he said, changing the subject.

Marco smiled slightly, despite the frightening situation going on around him. “Okay,” he said, enjoying this newfound feeling of being loved unconditionally.

Author’s Note: Next chapter will come sooner than this one did, and I’m about to start the next chapter of The Definition of Happiness. Please review :)

Current Mood: crazy

BTA Chapter 10

Author’s Note: I took a couple days off from writing fanfiction due to a visit from a good friend who moved away several years ago, and, of course, studying for Biology. The exam is Wednesday. Ooooh my gosh, I’m so nervous. Also, please forgive me. In the last chapter, many people decided to point out that, since he was abused himself, Craig should probably have been more understanding of the situation. I’ll make it up to you in this chapter.

After Marco let go of Dylan, he moved back slowly, never taking his eyes off the older boy. Marco was a planner. He generally liked to plan things out to the very end, but when it came to Dylan lately, his plan kind of took its own direction. Which is why Marco realized, a little too late, that he should have thought the whole launching himself at Dylan plan through a bit more.

“I—I don’t—" Marco stammered, turning around to face his boyfriend. Corey didn’t look too cheerful, and Marco didn’t blame him.

“He—hey, Corey,” said Marco, acting as though he and Corey were alone.

“Marco,” he said strangely. “Marco, I think that maybe you and I should take a drive,” he said.

The others said nothing, waiting anxiously for a reaction from Marco that could allow them to attack Corey. Marco tried to smile encouragingly at them.

“Okay,” he said slowly. He wasn’t stupid, but he didn’t know what else to do at the time.

“No,” said Ellie incredulously. “You are not going with him, Marco.”

Mrs. Del Rossi walked downstairs to see what all the fuss was about, definitely not expecting to see her son bruised and beaten. She stopped at the end of the staircase in shock.

“Marco,” she said softly, almost unable to speak. She walked over to where he was, enveloping him into a fierce hug. “Marco, what—who—how—" She didn’t even know what to say.

“I—" Marco started.

“—Corey,” Dylan interrupted, having had enough of the lies and cover-ups. Mrs. Del Rossi had never looked angrier in her life, for she knew exactly what Dylan meant.

Corey looked to Marco for help. “Marco, please, explain to them that I didn’t do this to you. Dylan’s,” he turned to Mrs. Del Rossi, “corrupting him to hate me. I didn’t hurt him.”

“Marco,” said Dylan, “tell your mother the truth.”

Marco had definitely been corrupted, but not by Dylan. He was so confused that he wasn’t even sure what the real truth was. He’d been in denial about the abuse for so long, constantly saying that Corey loved him. Hell, he still believed that Corey did it out of love.

“Marco,” said Dylan again, taking his arm.

“The truth, Marco,” said Corey, his eyes shining with pain and anger. He knew he could lose him forever, and it only just hit him.

Marco looked from Dylan back to Corey, and then at his mother. He knew she didn’t need him to say it. With the amount of time it took him to speak, it had become pretty obvious to her.

“Are you going to say anything against Dylan’s accusation, Marco?” asked Mrs. Del Rossi.

Marco just couldn’t make himself speak. It was as though everything that had happened between Dylan, Corey, and himself was just crashing and burning before him, and he couldn’t breathe. Corey would hurt him if he didn’t or did say anything at this point. What was he to do?

He sat down on the couch in the tiny space between Ashley and Craig, holding onto Craig’s arm helplessly. Craig looked down at him, confused.

“Marco, you okay?” he asked. “Don’t freak out.”

Marco was breathing quickly, hyperventilating, and refusing to let go of his concerned friend. “Get out of my house,” said Mrs. Del Rossi angrily, pointing to the stairs. “Get out before I call the police.”

Corey’s eyes widened, looking at Marco again. He wanted to leave on her orders, but for some reason, his body wouldn’t let him.

“Don’t!” Marco screamed, when Corey had reluctantly started to walk up the stairs. Marco began to cry, feeling scared and hopeless. Craig tried to calm him, telling him it would be best to let Corey walk out, but Marco wouldn’t hear of it. “Please don’t leave me, Corey. Mom, Corey would never want to hurt me,” he tried to defend him.

“Marco, he obviously has,” she replied, unsure of what to do. She looked to Craig, wondering if he knew what he was doing, but he’d been able to take his breathing back to a safe level.

“No,” Marco answered, letting his head fall into his hands. “No, no, no, no, no! I love him.”

Dylan walked over to Marco’s spot on the couch, kneeling down in front of him. He put his hand under Marco’s chin, asking him to raise it. Marco looked at him, breaking Dylan’s heart every time he saw him.

“Marco, please don’t do this. You can’t stay with him.”

“I can forgive him if I want to,” said Marco. “Why did you do this to me?”

“What?” asked Dylan, confounded. “You think I did this?”

“You made everything so much worse!” he cried, leaning most of his body on Craig for support.

Dylan looked at him, without understanding, and finally decided that if Marco was going to blame him, he wasn’t going to be around to let it happen. His sister, her friends, and Marco’s mother would take care of it from there on.

“If I’m who you want to blame, then fine,” said Dylan, hurt. When Marco saw him leave the basement, he felt even worse.

Marco didn’t know what to do anymore. “I love you,” he whimpered from the couch, looking at Corey. “I love you so much, Corey,” he said weakly.

“I want you to get out,” said Mrs. Del Rossi calmly. “I don’t know what to do at this moment, but please just leave.”

Corey knew better than to argue with Marco’s mother, but gave Marco a look that clearly stated he was to call him after everything was over. No excuses. Marco sighed. No matter what he did, it was never going to be ‘over’.

Corey walked upstairs, gallantly, of course. The only sound was Marco’s slightly ragged breathing.

“Dylan’s obviously upset, Marco,” said Mrs. Del Rossi, trying to find something helpful to say.

Marco didn’t know how to respond. In all honesty, he didn’t understand why Dylan, of all people, needed to be discussed.

“How could I have been so blind?” she asked, taking a seat on the bottom of the staircase. “This is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Marco. “I told you who’s fault this was.”

“Marco, how can you believe that this was Dylan’s fault?” asked Ashley, laying her hand on his leg. “He did nothing except try to help you.”

“Exactly,” said Marco, rubbing his eyes. “If he hadn’t tried to help, Corey wouldn’t have been so angry with me for liking him.”

“Marco, why do you always protect him?” asked Spinner. “It’s like, you go to any lengths to not get Corey into trouble.”

“When all he ever does is put you in it,” added Paige.

Craig soothingly rubbed Marco’s bruised wrist, talking more to him than anyone else. “He just doesn’t want to let Corey go.”

“He does love me, though,” said Marco, looking directly at Craig.

Craig nodded, turning back to the rest. “He’s just not thinking very logically at the moment,” he said.

“Marco, I don’t want him here anymore,” said Mrs. Del Rossi sternly, still feeling slightly guilty for all that had happened.

“You’re not skipping lunch anymore to be with him,” said Craig, paying close attention to Marco’s flat stomach.

“You’re not skipping any food again,” Ellie added.

“You come home with one of us everyday,” said Paige, “and of course, we’ll bring him back here,” she added, looking toward his mother.

“You’re pretty much our responsibility until we can be sure your need to be with him is…umm done, or at least, under control,” said Ashley.

“If you tell me I shouldn’t let Corey control me, why should I let my friends baby-sit me?” asked Marco, frustrated.

“Because we love you,” said Ellie. “Soon we will help you realize, Corey doesn’t love you, Marco. He never did.”

“He does,” said Marco. “You can pull me away from him, never let him over here, but I refuse to take back my statement that he loves me,” he said stubbornly.

“Okay,” Ellie agreed. “That’s fine for now.”

“Oh, and your phone should definitely be on you at all times,” said Paige. “You know, we trust you, but—"

“About that…” Marco started. “I don’t exactly have a phone anymore,” he said, seeing their confused looks.

“I broke it,” he said timidly.

“I thought you lost it,” said his mother, growing tired of the lies.

“Corey broke it,” he said, knowing that he’d already screwed the story up enough for her to become suspicious.

“I’m going home,” said Paige, “and you should come with me.”

“Grounding can be paused?” Marco asked, standing up with Paige.

“Just go,” she said, ushering him out of the basement. Marco could tell she was glad to see him leave with Paige.

“Al—all right,” he stuttered, walking outside with Paige.

“You all walked here?” he asked, turning to her.

She nodded. “Yes, we did,” she said distantly. “Marco, please don’t blame him for this,” she said. “He really didn’t cause any of this, and I know you know that.”

Marco shrugged. “Could we not talk about him?” he asked.

“Oh, sure,” she said, annoyed. “We have to talk about him because otherwise, how are you going to apologize to him if you’re not actually sorry?”

“Oh, is that what I’m doing?” he asked, rolling his eyes, walking further away from her. “I don’t see why.”

“You’re being stupid,” said Paige, “which is really sad because you’re the smartest person I know, Marco.”

She put her hand on Marco’s shoulder, slowing him down a bit. “Hon, he could be at his own school, in his own dorm, doing his own, probably overdue, work.”

“But?”

“He’s not,” she said. “He’s not because he knows that you’re more important to him than pretty much anything. Dylan would do whatever it takes to make you happy, but all you’re doing is avoiding him, staying with someone who makes you so unhappy that you’re afraid to even realize it!”

Marco looked down, starting up a fast pace again. “When is he going back to school?” he asked.

Paige rushed to keep up with him. “Well, he won’t until you’re better, or at least, trying to be.”

Marco sighed. “I’ll talk to him, okay?”

Author’s Note: Please review! It’ll make me so happy since my test is in…two hours.

Current Mood: nervous

BTA chapter nine

Author’s Note: Wish me luck on the rest of my tests :)

“So, basically, he’s threatened to do serious damage to Marco if word gets out,” said Dylan.

Paige, Ellie, Jimmy, Hazel, Ashley, Spinner, and Craig had all found out in some way what was going on with Marco. Paige and Dylan were the only ones who saw evidence first hand, however, and Ellie had long since forgiven Marco, knowing that he really couldn’t control Corey’s possessiveness.

“Who cares?” said Craig. “I mean, if we tell someone, we can get him away from Corey,” he expanded on what sounded like a careless question. “He’s already done damage.”

“That’s unintentional damage, though,” said Paige. “I mean, hell, I’m as angry as anyone else about this, but all that stuff he’s done hasn’t been done for the sole reason of hurting Marco because he’s always apologized.” She took a deep breath, still finding it astonishing that this situation had been going on for so long without their knowledge. “Like, think about it, if he’s doing it to spite Dylan, the pain will be so much worse for him.”

Ellie shook her head, not coming up with anything intelligent to say. “Poor Marco,” she mouthed.

“Seriously,” said Jimmy, frowning.

Dylan sat down on the floor, putting his head between his knees. “I’ve made it worse.”

“Don’t say that, Dyl,” said Paige, sighing. “It’s not your fault.”

“Does Marco know Corey called you?” asked Craig curiously

“No,” said Dylan, still talking to his knees. “I’ve got to do something. I feel like something really bad is going to happen, and I—"

“Dylan, stop,” said Ellie strongly. “The problem is that Corey isn’t dumb. A stupid guy we could work with.”

“Exactly,” said Paige. “We need some sort of a plan.”

“But the problem isn’t just Corey,” said Jimmy thoughtfully. “Marco doesn’t want to get rid of him.”

“Corey has done that to him, Jimmy,” said Craig. “He’s not in his right mind.”

“So, we have nothing?” said Dylan pitifully.

“Nothing,” they repeated.

Marco walked into his kitchen, surprised that his mother wasn’t in there, and took a seat at the table.

“Marco!” Speak of the devil. He couldn’t just have a few good moments in peace?

“Yes?” he groaned, raising his head from the tabletop.

“I can’t find my cover-up,” she said, walking in with a look of pure confusion. “I had it just this morning.”

“How would I know where it is?” he asked, wondering how she’d come to the conclusion that he was the one who touched it…even though he was.

“No need to be rude,” she said softly, opening her purse. “Well, I—"

“Mom,” he thought it was as good as any time to tell her, “I lost my cell phone.”

“You’re kidding!” she said, cover-up conversation completely forgotten. “Oh, Marco…where?”

“You’re kidding,” he said. “If I knew where, we wouldn’t be talking about it.”

Marco’s mother looked at him carefully, shaking her head. “I don’t know why you’ve been so unkind lately, Marco. I don’t appreciate it.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, not in the least big regretful for the way he was acting.

“You know,” said his mother, glaring slightly, “I don’t need your attitude.” Marco had really never seen his mother angry.

“I’m not giving you an attitude!” he yelled, getting up from the chair. “I’m going downstairs—"

“You’re grounded,” she interrupted. “No phone, no computer, no Corey.”

Marco paused mid-step in his way to the basement. “Ma…I—you can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can, Marco,” she said firmly. “I don’t like to punish you. You’re usually so well behaved. Don’t think of it like a punishment,” she said, her voice softer, “I just need you away from Corey because I’m afraid he’s the reason you’re acting like this. Just a break, honey.”

“He won’t see it that way,” Marco murmured, walking back to the staircase. “Ma, please.”

“I can’t negotiate this. I feel like you’re becoming a different person,” she said softly, wincing as he slammed the door.

“Corey won’t be angry,” Marco said to himself. “He won’t be too angry,” he corrected, pacing the basement floor, hoping his parents wouldn’t come down. “He’ll get over it.”

Though Marco tried to convince himself that his grounding wouldn’t make Corey furious, he knew, deep inside himself, that it really would. “What am I going to do?” he cried, leaning back against the wall.

His mother was quite right about one thing. He was changing. Marco never remembered talking to people the way he’d been lately, and he wasn’t sure why he was doing it now. Sure, there were things that changed since he’d gotten together with Corey, but had he changed? Was he different?

“He’s had sex with him?” Dylan asked, caught off guard by Paige’s statement.

“Yeah, you didn’t know?” Paige replied. Dylan shook his head, shocked. “Yeah, I don’t even want to discuss that, Dylan.”

“I always thought Marco was entirely willing to, but now,” said Craig, “I don’t know.”

“Marco’s a very easy target to pressure,” said Paige softly.

“We’ve been discussing the same things over and over again,” said Ashley, finally joining into the conversation. “Does anyone have a real plan?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Ash, we’re trying.”

“I got it!” exclaimed Spinner, causing every head to turn towards him eagerly. “We get Marco from his house, and bring him here.”

“He’d still go to school, and Corey would drive him home after,” said Hazel. “It’s pretty hard to understand, but Marco really does, in a weird sort of way, love him…and fear him at the same time.”

“So, no kidnapping?” asked Spinner, crestfallen. “I mean, we could tell him he’s coming home with us, and not allowed to be with Corey.”

“Do what Corey does to him?” said Dylan, raising an eyebrow.

“Good point,” Spinner replied, giving up on the idea.

“But we could go over to Corey’s house,” Ellie suggested. “I know where he lives.”

“And beat the hell out of him?” asked Dylan. “I mean, I’m totally up for that, but what’s it going to do?”

Ellie shrugged. “Teach him a lesson, perhaps.”

“Maybe we should just go over to talk to Marco,” said Ashley. “It may not do anything, but at least he’ll know that we know what’s going on, and that we intend to stop it.”

Dylan nodded. “I could go for that.”

“I really don’t want him having guests over,” said Mrs. Del Rossi, though she had to admit that she was pleasantly surprised Corey wasn’t with the large group at her door. “He’s been grounded.”

“Marco? Grounded?” asked Paige. “Never thought I’d see the day…”

“Look, Mrs. Del Rossi, I’m really sorry, but it’s very important. We need to talk to him about Corey,” said Dylan, catching a glimpse of Marco coming out of the basement doorway. He looked at them, confused.

“Important?” questioned his mother.

“Mrs. Del Rossi, he…” Paige stopped short, noticing Marco coming towards them. Marco would never forgive her if she told her about his abuse. Never.

“He?” she prompted, waiting for Paige to go on.

“He—he, meaning Marco, is uh…behind you, hey,” she said nervously.

“Hi,” said Marco. “What are you all doing here?” he asked, avoiding Dylan’s eyes. He had a boyfriend. He had a boyfriend. He had a boyfriend.

“Marco, we’re here to talk to you about Corey,” said Dylan while everyone else nodded. Mrs. Del Rossi looked at them sympathetically.

“Just for a bit,” she said, walking away from the doorway.

“Okay, ma,” said Marco, not looking happy about it. “Come in,” he offered, leading them to the basement.

Dylan, being the first one, traveled extremely closely behind Marco, vaguely wondering when he had become so thin.

Marco sat down on the couch, his friends following quite uncomfortably. “So, lecture me,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve heard it.”

“Marco, we don’t want to bore you; we really want to help you,” said Dylan. “We miss how you used to be.”

“Why does everyone think I’m changing? I’m no different!”

“Marco,” said Paige, “I want you to go into the bathroom,” she pointed to the one behind her, “and wash your face off. Then, you come out here, and we’ll talk.”

Marco sighed, thinking it wasn’t necessary, but obliging, hoping it would make their departure come sooner.

“In fact, anywhere you have cover-up on,” she added when he closed the door, realizing he’d probably caused even more marks that weren’t on his face.

Ellie sighed, looking from Paige to Dylan to Craig, and finally to the floor. “I don’t want to see this.”

“No one does, El,” said Paige empathetically, leaning over to pat her knee. It was strange that they had been getting along, but Marco mattered so much to both of them for there to be much fighting.

The bathroom door opened, and all of them turned to Marco. He was trying, unsuccessfully, to get the attention off of him. He walked over to the middle of the room, standing before him all.

Most of his friends had to hold back gasps and, in Paige’s case, tears. Marco stood in front of them, his beaten face clearly visible without all the make-up. His lip looked as if it had been cut, but healed many times. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see their eyes traveling down the rest of his battered body.

“Marco,” said Dylan, standing up. He put his arms around the younger boy, forgetting about everyone else who was watching. “Marco, look at you,” he said slowly. “Just—just look at what he does to you.”

Marco stayed securely in Dylan’s arms, his head buried in his chest. He wasn’t crying, just breathing as he tried to ignore their eyes. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see. He knew what was there.

“When’s the last time you ate, Marco?” Hazel asked, voicing what most of them had been thinking about.

Marco shrugged. He honestly didn’t know. Dylan let go of him, to let Marco have his space, but Marco clung to him, still not speaking a word. Dylan gently rubbed his back, hoping to calm him in any way he could.

“He’s…” Marco started, pulling his face away from Dylan’s chest for his speech to be understood. “He’s going to call tonight,” he whispered, “and he’s going to be really mad at me because I got in trouble.”

Dylan knew he was speaking to him only, and it broke his heart to hear him speaking so weakly. “Don’t worry,” said Dylan soothingly.

“I’m so confused,” said Marco, once again putting his face against Dylan’s chest, finally letting himself cry. “I love him so much, I do. I just…I don’t know,” he said, swallowing painfully.

“Marco, he’s out of his freaking mind,” said Spinner from the couch behind them. “He’s a psycho.”

“He is my boyfriend, Spinner,” said Marco. “I don’t appreciate that.”

“How can you defend that monster?” asked Craig, enraged. It was so hard for them to understand Marco’s situation. Marco simply held on tightly to Dylan, hoping that he could make all of the bad things disappear by holding him.

“All right, guys, just don’t question him right now,” said Dylan. “Listen,” he said, lifting Marco’s head to face him, “I don’t want it to have to go so far, Marco, but I will go to any lengths to get him away from you. If you cooperate with us, it’ll be much easier.”

Marco looked down at his feet, trying to prevent himself from wanting to cry again. “You love me,” he said, not asked, remembering the conversation that had made him smile stupidly for so long.

The others looked quite surprised. “I do,” said Dylan, kissing the top of his head. Marco stepped away.

“No, no, it’s wrong,” he said. “It’s wrong. Corey—he’ll—"

“Corey won’t do anything to you if you stay with us, Marco,” said Ashley, smiling supportively. “It’ll be okay.”

“No, no, I love him. He needs me,” said Marco fearfully, backing away.

“Marco,” said Dylan, taking his hand. “Marco, he controls you.”

“He loves me,” he said. “He—he just wants me to be with him,” said Marco, not sounding entirely convinced.

“Marco, if you’re worried about him hurting you…” Ellie started, “we won’t let that happen.”

“Someone who loved you wouldn’t let this happen,” said Dylan. “Is he aware that you’re starving yourself?”

“I’m not!” Marco denied. “Why does everyone always have to be in my business!”

“Marco, we’re not. We ju—"

“Don’t get upset,” said Dylan. “I was uh…doing some research,” he looked back at Paige who had spoken up, “defensiveness is very common in this situation. He’s trying to make us feel badly.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here, Dylan,” warned Marco. “You know I hate that.”

“And you know I hate when your mood changes like,” he snapped his fingers, “that.”

The others watched this scene carefully, unsure of what they were supposed to do.

“It’s getting really late,” said Marco. “You all should probably go.”

“See, if I left you this helpless, that’d make me just like Corey, so I’ll stay until tomorrow if I have to,” said Dylan, making Marco raise his eyebrows skeptically. “All I want to do is make everything better for you.”

Marco closed his eyes suddenly. “Corey’s here,” he whispered. “I hear him speaking with my mom. Please don’t tell him they’re down here,” he begged, talking to himself. A moment later, they all heard his footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Apparently, I’ve got to go because you’re grounded, and I’ve been sent down here to tell you all the same thing,” he said, not sounding pleased. “What, exactly, did you do?”

“Was rude…” he said quietly.

“I see,” said Corey. “Why is your face all…”

“Bruised?” Hazel threw in. “You should know.”

Corey looked at Marco, and he could tell he’d never been in more trouble with his boyfriend before. No one was supposed to know about the bruises. No one ever did. Until now.

“Aden, I really don’t want to hear from you at the moment,” he said, moving in closer to Marco. “Why would you tell them, Marco?” he whispered, resting his hand on his bruised cheek.

“I’m sorry,” said Marco, even though he hadn’t told them anything in the first place. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think.”

Marco’s friends couldn’t believe he was taking the blame for it. “It’s your fault it came out, Corey,” said Paige, getting up from her seat. Dylan had to hold her back before she basically threw herself at him.

Marco, forgetting all about Corey’s presence for a moment, walked closer to Dylan, hugging him tightly. Corey looked stunned.

“You know…just to…you mean…well, a lot.”

Dylan didn’t really understand what he meant at that moment, but he’d risked a lot by doing it.

Author’s Note: Yeah, please review. :)

Breaking the attachment chapter 8

Author’s Note: Finally, right?

Marco knew the cycle. No matter what, the last stage begins with apologies, promises, and love. Then, the process repeats itself. Marco really didn’t call his relationship with Corey ‘abusive,’ but whatever it was, he lived his life simply for that last step. In fact, if Marco were to admit, he was pretty sure he sometimes purposely (though somewhat subconsciously) started fights just to get to that stage. Sick, huh? The love stage was always unbelievably sweet. Sometimes he felt like arguments were the only way to get him to that.

Marco knew it would come eventually, but sometimes after something drastic happened, it would take a while for the apologies to occur, but they never failed to happen. Just as Corey had said, he didn’t get ice, but after a moment, he hugged Marco tightly to him, whispering that it wouldn’t happen again. Marco wasn’t sure if he meant the hitting or Marco’s time with Dylan. He knew the second one definitely wasn’t happening again.

Corey kissed the bruise carefully. A bruise had formed within minutes? There was still a handprint marked into his face. Marco sat tiredly. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“I love you, Marco,” he said sincerely.

Marco smiled. His favorite part. “I love you too, Core.”

Some people said that Corey didn’t know what love was, only power, but they would never say that if they knew how strongly those three words coming from Corey affected him. They didn’t understand how truthfully he said them, as though he needed Marco to survive.

Marco was starting to see the small, miniscule issue in their relationship, but it wasn’t Corey’s fault. It was his fault. His problem.

“I—I have to go home,” said Marco. “My parents will be angry.”

Corey looked at him unsurely. “They didn’t care that you were out with Dylan,” he said, stepping away from him. “You just want to leave.”

“No! I just have to make dinner, you know?” said Marco, shaking as he got up. Strangely, Corey seemed to believe him.

“Yeah, I know,” said Corey. “I just miss you when you’re gone.”

“Drive me?” Marco asked nervously.

Marco and Corey walked out of Corey’s bedroom. “So, what happened to your phone?” Corey asked, zipping up his jacket.

Marco looked confused for a moment. “Wh—what? Oh,” he said, realizing, “I lost it.”

“Good boy,” said Corey, kissing his cheek.

Corey opened the door, surprised to see a car parked on the side of the road. “Is that…” he turned to Marco, “Dylan?”

As soon as Dylan had seen the door open, he got out of the car.

“Why the hell is he here, Marco?” asked Corey, putting his hand securely on Marco’s shoulder. Marco watched as Dylan walked up the driveway.

He gasped, remembering the damage. “My God, my face!” he said, hiding in Corey’s shoulder. Corey roughly pushed him away.

“What’s he doing here?” he asked again. Didn’t Corey understand that Marco was trying to protect his boyfriend? He wouldn’t ask Dylan to come over.

Dylan stood in front of them, slipping his keys into his jeans’ pocket. “I followed you,” he informed them.

“Go home,” Marco mouthed, but drawing attention to himself only made things worse. Dylan’s eyes caught the mark. Corey’s mark. At least, with his other cuts and bruises, there wasn’t a damn handprint on his face. Why hadn’t Dylan decided to come one of those times?

Dylan moved closer, reaching his hand out to touch it, but Marco instinctively backed away. “Go home,” he said, feeling worse than ever before.

“No,” said Dylan in disbelief. “If you think I’m going to leave you alone with him after seeing this, you’re out of your mind.”

“I’m fine,” he said immediately, stepping closer to Corey. Corey put his arm around Marco’s waist, glaring at Dylan.

“This is my property, so get off,” said Corey.

“Which?” asked Dylan. “The house of Marco?”

“Dylan,” said Marco, shaking his head. “Dylan, Do—"

“What is your obsession,” said Corey, moving closer to Dylan, “with my boyfriend?” he asked.

Marco tried to coax Corey into calming down, but he ignored him, walking closer that he was standing with almost no distance at all between he and Dylan.

“I don’t have an obsession with him,” said Dylan. “I just care about him unlike some people.”

“He means everything to me, so don’t you fucking dare imply that I don’t care about him,” said Corey, moving even closer.

“You’re not supposed to hurt someone who means that much to you,” said Dylan.

“I don’t!” Corey denied. “Marco?” he asked, Marco’s presence being acknowledged once again.

Marco shook his head. “What’s that supposed to mean?” the two older boys shouted, not knowing how to read a simple shake of the head.

“Noo…?”

“No what?” yelled Corey, frustrated.

“Don’t yell at him!” said Dylan. “He hates that.”

Corey pushed Dylan away from him. “Don’t tell me how to treat him.”

“I’ll tell you anything I want to tell you,” said Dylan childishly, pushing him back. “You may be able to push him around, but I won’t be so easy,” said Dylan. “I actually fight back.”

Corey didn’t reply, raising his fist, and Marco closed his eyes tightly. It had become a habit when anyone raised his or her hand even in class. He could hear the painful crack as Corey’s hand made contact with Dylan’s jaw. As Dylan had warned, he returned with an even harder hit, something Corey was certainly not accustomed to.

Marco wanted to walk back into the house or stop the fight, but he knew he wouldn’t accomplish either one. He simply watched painfully with one eye closed.

Dylan had managed to get Corey up against the wall. Marco’s being there was forgotten…again. “Does it make you feel wonderfully wrong?” asked Dylan. “Does it make you feel good hurting him?”

“I do not hurt him. We went over this,” said Corey, finally breaking free of Dylan’s tight hold.

“You’ve absolutely broken him!” said Dylan. “You’ve taken away the soul in him that I fell in love with.”

Marco turned to look at him. Had Dylan actually said what he thought he said? More importantly, did Dylan even realize it?

“Don’t you ever go near him,” said Corey, realizing that at that moment, professing his love, Dylan had become more of a danger than he ever had been. He had a tight hold on both of Dylan’s arms. When Corey was angry, he was strong.

“Maybe Marco would like a say in this,” said Dylan, forcing himself, with difficulty, out of Corey’s grasp.

“No, no, Marco’s good!” said Marco, not wanting to get involved. He knew if he lied, Dylan would be upset with him. If he told the truth, Corey would murder him with bare hands.

“That’s what I mean!” exclaimed Dylan. “The Marco I knew would always want a say. In fact, it could get irritating,” Marco smiled, knowing he meant no offense by that statement. “But that’s not the point. He always told me what he wanted and how he felt. You’ve turned him into some speechless, emotionless, marionette.”

“I don’t control him. He does what I want because he loves me,” said Corey defensively.

“You don’t control him? That’s got to be the funniest thing I’ve heard all year,” said Dylan without a trace of a smile.

Marco was just glad the violence was over. “C—Corey was going to take me home, Dylan.”

“I’m heading over that way, Marco,” said Dylan. “I could—"

“I will take him,” said Corey.

Marco nodded. “I love Corey, Dylan,” he said, getting in the car with him. Dylan watched, walking slowly to his car.

While Marco turned around to pull his seat belt on, he mouthed the words, ‘Call me’.

Dylan nodded, but Marco had already turned back around in his seat.

Marco tapped his fingers nervously on his thighs. Why did he want Dylan to call him? Would Corey even let him out of his sight for a moment? Was he angry with Marco for the fight?

“Your face is fine,” said Corey, banging his right hand against the window. “How dare he tell me I abuse you? Why the hell are you friends with that jackass?”

“I don’t know,” Marco said with a shrug.

“And to think he said he was in love with you.” Yes, Marco definitely didn’t need Corey’s reminder of that one. He smiled in spite of himself, turning away so Corey wouldn’t see.

“You see why I don’t want you with these people now?” Marco didn’t answer right away. “Yes?”

“Mhmm,” he said distantly, staring out the window.

“So, you start eleventh grade in a week,” said Dylan conversationally. Marco didn’t answer. He’d been so uncharacteristically quiet for a while. “Soo, how’s your boyfriend?”

Dylan generally avoided the topic of Corey. It always reminded him of their “almost date.” If only he had listened to Spinner when he said Marco was ready.

“He’s just fine,” said Marco, refolding a shirt of Dylan’s, (which he had screwed up magnificently) and putting it in his suitcase.

“You spend almost every minute together,” said Dylan. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know,” said Marco uncomfortably, changing the subject. “Are you scared for University?” he asked.

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head slowly, cautiously throwing the previous subject back in. “This guy better good enough for my Marco,” he said protectively, causing Marco to let out his first smile of the afternoon, “though…I doubt anyone could be.”

Marco smiled even more brightly, hugging him. “You’re sweet.”

“Trust me, if he don’t treat you the way you deserve, I’ll beat the hell out of him.”

Marco laughed nervously into his shoulder, holding on tighter than he knew he should have been. “I trust you.”

Marco smiled at the memory. “So help me God, I will kill him if he touches you. Trust me, Marco.”

“I trust you, Dyl,” he sighed, paying no attention to the boy in the car, but the friend of his past.

Corey stopped dead in the middle of the road. Fortunately, there were no cars behind them. Corey took a deep breath, and then drove a little more until they were in Marco’s driveway.

“What did you call me?” he asked, praying that he’d heard wrong.

“Corey,” said Marco firmly. “Maybe Core?” he hoped.

“You.called.me.’Dyl’,” he said furiously. Marco’s mother’s car was in the driveway. Surely, Corey wouldn’t touch him.

“C-Corey, we were just with him, talking about him, you know? I made a mistake.”

Marco was terrified. He’d never seen him so angry, and he didn’t want his mother to finish her walk from the car to the house. He wished, for once, she’d interfere.

“Little mistake? So, you think he and I are alike?”

“Core, I’m so sorry, honestly. I definitely don’t think you are anything like Dylan,” said Marco, speaking truthfully.

“Okay, so obviously you think he’s better than me?” he asked.

“Corey, where do you GET that?” he yelled. It was an immediate reaction to the accusation.

Corey grabbed his wrist tightly, digging his bracelet into his skin. “Don’t yell at me. Have I not warned you about that before?”

Corey let go without a reason, so Marco turned around to see his mother walking to the car.

“You coming inside, Marco?” she asked, glancing at Corey. He went with Dylan, but came home with Corey?

“Yeah,” he replied, taking off his seatbelt.

“Dylan is on the phone for you,” she said, explaining why she had it in her hand. Why did she have to mention it? He could have taken it inside after Corey left…now, she had ruined it.

“Can I come in, Mrs. Del Rossi?” asked Corey.

“Well, su—"

Marco cut her off. “Ma, please tell Dylan I’ll call him back. It’s really not that important.”

Marco and Corey got out of the car. Marco took the phone from his mother’s hand, planning on telling Dylan he’d call him back. Corey walked inside with the two of them. Once inside, Mrs. Del Rossi went back to her own bedroom while Corey and Marco went to his.

“Dyl, I’ve—"

“Talk to him,” Corey demanded. “I want to know what he has to say.”

Marco closed his eyes, sitting on his bed with Corey next to him. “H—hi, Dylan.”

“Hey, Marco, you asked—"

“Mhmm,” he interrupted, knowing Corey was listening on everyone word. “Umm…Dyl,” Marco prayed he had a smart friend, “I wanted to ask you if Paige had my shirt…you know, she borrowed it once,” said Marco, coming up with something at a moment’s notice.

“Umm…I’ll ask her later,” he said slowly. “Is everything okay? Where’s Corey?” Marco looked to his boyfriend for what was okay to say.

“Home,” he answered, due to Corey’s direction.

“Marco, I’m sorry. I’ll call you back. I have to—"

“No problem,” Marco secretly thanked God for it. “Bye.”

“Bye, Marco.”

“Well, I suppose I should go now, since that wonderful conversation has ended,” said Corey, pulling Marco up with him. He kissed him lightly. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

“Bye, love you,” he said automatically.

“Love you too,” said Corey, leaving the room. That was easier than he’d hoped. His heart speed had just started to become normal again after Corey had pulled out of the driveway.

…………………………………………………………………………………

About ten minutes after Dylan had hung up the phone, it rang again. He pushed his paper to the side, not really interested in drafting it in the first place. “Hello,” he said wearily, rubbing his eyes. It wasn’t Marco; he didn’t recognize the number.

“You’re not going to tell anyone about Marco’s bruise, Dylan,” said Corey.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked incredulously. “I have all the proof I need. I don’t need any threats from you. Besides, I could fight you,” he said. “I did once.”

“You tell anyone, I’ll know. Marco tells anyone, I’ll know. Either way, Dylan, I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Dylan blinked. “Wait. What?”

“My anger causes slight outbursts, yes, but if you were to cause me to lose him by telling anyone about said ‘proof’, he’d be in a lot more pain…if you know what I mean.”

Dylan took a deep breath. “I mean,” Corey went on, “I’d never want to hurt my baby, as I’ve told you a million times, but if it keeps you from telling anyone…”

“Just don’t touch him.”

“You are the one forbidden to touch my boyfriend, thank you,” said Corey. “As long as Marco’s my boyfriend, you’ll have nothing to worry about. There’s no problems. I won’t hurt him.”

“You already do. You being his boyfriend is the general problem,” Dylan argued. Marco would do anything for Corey. Hell, Corey had manipulated him into thinking he wasn’t being abused, even Corey believed he wasn’t being abusive. Dylan knew that if he tested Corey, things would get worse. He also knew that Corey could read Marco like a book, so if Dylan interfered, and tried to get help, Corey would know and punish Marco unfairly for it. He wasn’t going to keep it a secret, of course. What could he possibly do?

He realized another minor detail, making his plan seem even weaker. He didn’t have any proof except that he’d seen the bruise. No picture.

“Be careful what you say, Dylan.”

Author’s Note: Okay, so please review!

Current Mood: busy
Current Music: Nothing

Yeah, I've just mostly been posting a billion things on fanfiction. Forgot about posting this here.

Author’s Note: Here’s the chapter.

“Wh—what do you mean?” asked Marco nervously. “You can’t just not believe me.”

Dylan sighed. “Marco, I’m not that stupid, you know? I want to help you. Why can’t you…” he paused, trying to figure out the best way to deal with the situation, “just trust me?”

“I do trust you, Dylan. I…” he let his voice trail off, searching the room with a sense of fear. It made him angry because he knew deep inside that Corey was not there, but he still felt guilty about talking to Dylan, and had to make sure Corey really was nowhere to be found.

Marco remembered what Corey had taught him so well. He didn’t need his friends. The only person who mattered was Corey. He twisted his new bracelet around his wrist.

“I—I only called because I wondered if it might be an emergency,” said Marco, biting his lip.

“Emergency?” Dylan said, bemused. “Your boyfriend is beating you half to death, and you don’t think this is an emergency! Marco, why the hell do you—"

“Don’t yell at me,” said Marco quietly, a desperate tone in his voice.

Dylan sighed, regretting the fact that he’d made things worse by intimidating him. “I won’t yell at you; I’m sorry.”

Marco smiled. He hadn’t truly believed those words in a long time. “It’s okay,” he replied. “Corey, he—he doesn’t hurt me like everyone thinks,” he stuttered.

Dylan seemed skeptical, though Marco couldn’t see his expression through the phone.

“Marco,” said Dylan as calmly as possible. “I don’t believe that.”

“Why do you tell me to trust you if you don’t trust me?” he asked, feeling his heartbeat quicken. There was someone on the other line.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the beep. It wasn’t Corey, he told himself. “Probably just for mom,” he said, not realizing for a moment that he’d spoken aloud.

“What?” asked Dylan, confused.

“Nothing,” said Marco, imagining all of the possible outcomes of answering or not. On the one hand, if it was Corey, and he told him he was with someone on the other line, he’d be angry with Marco for putting someone above him. If it was Corey, and he didn’t answer, Corey would make unfair accusations, and Marco wouldn’t be able to lie to him. He continued to fiddle with his bracelet. He’d been so distracted by his own thoughts that it took him a second to realize Dylan said something.

“What?” he asked.

“I said, do you love him?” asked Dylan.

Marco didn’t answer right away. “More than anything,” he said.

Marco wasn’t sure why Dylan wanted to know. If wasn’t as if it would make anything better. Not that Marco thought things with Corey were… bad or anything.

“Okay,” said Dylan weakly. “If he loved you, he wouldn’t hurt you. Would he?”

“He doesn’t,” said Marco. “He loves me,” he said, feeling himself start to cry. He’d been so damn sensitive lately.

Dylan was surprised. He wasn’t exactly planning for Marco to start crying. “Relax, hon,” he said soothingly, realizing he couldn’t give much help and comfort over the phone.

“Meet me somewhere,” said Dylan, waiting for Marco to calm down.

“No, Co—Corey,” he remembered the beeping noise again.

“Screw Corey!” exclaimed Dylan, taking Marco by surprise. “I’ll be there in…I don’t know. Wait for me. I’m coming straight from my dorm.” Dylan hung up the phone. Marco looked at it with his brow furrowed. He hung up as well.

Marco had tried desperately to erase the evidence that he had cried from his face, but Dylan still noticed the tear stains on his cheeks. “I’m sorry about upsetting you,” he said, as soon as Marco got in the car.

“Let’s just go,” said Marco, looking out the window with his arms crossed.

Dylan sighed, disappointed with the reaction he was getting. “As you wish,” he said, pulling out of the driveway.

Marco and Dylan got a table together in the back of The Dot, telling the waitress that they weren’t going to have anything…at least, not at the moment.

Marco looked down at his hand, drumming his nails along the table. He waited patiently for Dylan to say something.

“I miss when you used to tell me things,” said Dylan. Marco looked up to meet his eyes. “We barely knew each other, but you trusted me with your worries, feelings, concerns, and now you can’t even tell me the truth.”

Marco licked his lips nervously. When had Dylan become so intrusive? “I’m not lying to you, Dyl.”

“See, that’s what you don’t understand. I know you’re lying to me. I just need you to be able to admit it.”

Marco stubbornly stared back at him with such honest eyes that Dylan almost reconsidered it.

“So, are you telling me your relationship with Corey is perfect?” asked Dylan. “Marco, I may have no evidence of him physically hurting you, but I do know that he’s definitely possessive.”

“You act like I’m nothing but a slave to him!” said Marco. “That is not how he treats me at all.” Marco held up his bracelet. “He knows what I like.”

“So do I,” Dylan pointed out. “Is that the only reason you date someone?”

“Of course not,” said Marco furiously. Why wouldn’t Dylan leave him alone about it? He said he was fine. Dylan knew he couldn’t handle the pressure, and he would eventually crack.

“Why do you love him?” Dylan asked in that sweet, soft, calm, fake-curious voice he used that made Marco want to scream.

“He’s amazing, Dylan,” said Marco, imitating the other’s boy’s voice.

Dylan rolled his eyes, trying to ignore how much he still wanted Marco to say things like that about him.

“How?” he asked. How could Marco choose someone who liked to make him feel pain over Dylan?

“Dylan, I know what you all think, but it’s not true. You can’t deal with—"

“How it is ALWAYS turned into my problem, Marco? You try to pin everything on me, and pretend that your life is so perfect, when it’s not,” said Dylan angrily.

“Nothing and no one is perfect,” said Marco. “He just—he just gets really jealous easily.”

“No!” said Dylan in mock horror. “I never would have guessed.”

“Shut-up,” said Marco, glaring. “I don’t find you very funny.”

Dylan smiled sympathetically, understanding that Marco was going through a hard time. He reached his hand across the table, taking Marco’s hand in his own. Marco’s fingers immediately stopped drumming, and he relaxed. Dylan ran his thumb along the top of Marco’s hand gently. They both fell completely silent because of the feelings it gave both of them.

“Can I call you tonight?” asked Dylan.

“Yeah,” said Marco dreamily. He wasn’t sure what was coming over him, but he hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

“N-no,” he blinked, coming back to reality. “Corey—"

“Marco, damnit!” said Dylan, still not letting go of his hand.

“No, I just mean he has my phone. Call my house, okay?” said Marco, not wanting to ruin the moment they’d been having.

“Why,” Dylan started, feeling an awful need to kill Marco’s boyfriend, “does Corey,” he continued, taking a deep breath, “have your phone?”

Marco looked down, embarrassed, answering quietly with, “He thought I would call you…”

“Marco, there’s a reason why I drove all the way over here from University,” said Dylan, calmly taking Marco’s other hand as well. “Part of it is because you’re my friend, but I really—"

“Oh, hello Marco.”

Marco closed his eyes immediately. He knew that voice, and he knew it sounded angry.

“H—hey, Corey,” he replied, without opening his eyes. It was a horrible horrible dream. He could make it disappear.

Dylan realized it would be a good idea to let go of Marco’s hands at that moment. “Hello, Corey,” he said awkwardly, looking away.

Corey ignored him. “I was going to bring your phone back,” he said, gesturing toward the cell phone in his hand, “but you didn’t seem to be home.”

Marco stood up guiltily, and Dylan saw him shaking as he did so. “Bye, Dylan.” He was in major trouble.

“Bye, Dylan,” he said nervously.

“Bye, Marco,” said Dylan, rising from the table as well. He wanted to follow them, but what could he do? Knock Corey out? There had to be a more practical way to go about it. He let them leave for now, and created his own plan. Marco wasn’t ever going to leave on his own; he needed serious help.

Corey walked side by side with Marco all the way to the car. “Get in,” he said, his voice dangerously low. Marco hesitated a moment, apprehensive.

“Get in,” he repeated, not in the mood to have to wait.

Marco got into the car. As afraid as he was to do it, he knew the consequences would be worse if he didn’t.

Corey slammed his door shut, staring out the front window.

“Why would you do that to me?” he asked furiously, grabbing Marco’s arm, so that he was forced to look him in the eye.

“I was—Core, we were just talking,” he said meekly. “I’m really sorry.”

“Oh! You’re always sorry,” he said, finally starting the car. “It’s getting harder and harder to believe.”

“I know the feeling,” said Marco softly, banging his head on the window for his own stupidity.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” said Marco immediately.

Corey ignored him. “I take away your phone, and you decide to go out with him? Marco, I don’t even…” Marco kept his eyes closed for the rest of the ride, drowning out any muttering Corey was doing.

Marco opened his eyes once the car stopped, seeing that they were in Corey’s driveway. He didn’t ask why; he couldn’t. He simply followed him into the house silently.

Corey closed the bedroom door, leaning up against it. Marco watched from his bed without reaction as Corey repeatedly threw Marco’s cell phone at the wall.

“This is for your own damn good, you know,” he said, not expecting Marco to respond. “Marco, why would you do this to me? Huh?”

“I don’t know,” said Marco, once again on the verge of tears. He could handle any amount of beatings, no matter how painful, but he hated when people screamed at him. It made him feel like such a horrible person.

“Don’t you start crying now. If anyone should feel upset, it’s me!” Corey shouted, finally succeeding in breaking Marco’s phone to pieces. “All you seem to do lately is hurt me because I can’t even trust you.”

“I’m sorry,” Marco repeated.

“I don’t care, Marco!” said Corey, losing his temper entirely.

He came closer. Marco shut his eyes, preparing for the inevitable. After the blow, he kept his eyes closed, as usual, but he normally opened them after Corey walked away. Corey didn’t move. He blinked, confused.

“Open your eyes, Marco,” said Corey. Marco did reluctantly. “You do not,” he hit him again harder, causing Marco to flinch “ever,” he hit him again even harder, “see anyone but me ever again. It’s not a request anymore, Marco. It’s more than an order this time. You belong to me. Do you get that?”

Marco breathed in deeply, unable to speak. He touched the side of his lip, which was bleeding profusely.

“Answer me!” said Corey, hitting him again, causing Marco to cry out. Something he barely ever did since the first time he’d been hit. Corey had never been so forceful.

“Yes, I belong to you. I’m yours.”

“You love me.”

“I love you,” he replied.

Corey gently rubbed the side of Marco’s aching cheek, and Marco ignored the taste of blood in his mouth as he spoke.

“You will never speak to him again, Marco,” he said softly.

Marco nodded. “Okay,” he said in a strained voice. “Core?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I please have some ice?” he asked, practically begging.

“I don’t know. If I do that, will you ever learn your lesson, baby?”

Author’s Note: Please review :)

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/29/nyregion/29hostage.html?_r=2&ref=nyregion&oref=slogin&oref=slogin

Current Mood: annoyed

Imperfections--one-shot I posted on fanfiction, and thought I'd do it here too :)

Author’s Note: I’m going to be keeping up with everything. More updates soon, I promise. I just have a lot of work, like I keep telling you all. This is just a one-shot I came up with, being an extremely self-conscious, (in an almost ridiculous way) I based it on me. Enjoy :) Oh, and I pretty much wrote this quickly because I’m…doing anything to avoid doing the rest of my homework lol. Anyway, here’s the story:

Dylan loved simply laying there with Marco’s body next to his. He knew he had only a few more days of his week-long break from Switzerland, but it almost seemed, at that moment, as if the next morning would never even come, let alone the next couple of days. He knew Marco was awake, and that they could do something more productive and entertaining with their time, but he truly was, though it may seem sappy, happy to just lay with him.

Dylan leaned over brushing the pesky hair away from Marco’s eyes even though he was sure, with his eyes closed, it didn’t bother him. “Yeah?” asked Marco, keeping his eyes closed, preventing the bright light from the bedside lamp from intruding.

“Nothing, just,” he let his voice trail off before the word ‘hair’ came out. He sighed. “You really that tired?” he asked.

“No, but the light is killing me,” said Marco, opening his eyes, but quickly throwing his arm across them. “Too bright,” he whimpered.

“All right, all right,” said Dylan, laughing. He leaned over, turning the switch off, letting the room be completely dark. Not long after, Marco turned the light back on, sitting up, and giving Dylan an entirely different attitude.

“Look at me,” he demanded. Dylan didn’t have to make any movement, considering he already was looking at Marco, but he stared more intently, as though there was something he was supposed to find there. One never knew when it came to Marco.

“Are you looking?” he asked hysterically. Dylan was quite confused.

“Yes, I’m looking,” he said, taking Marco’s hand, trying to calm him down. He looked close to having a nervous breakdown. “I’m looking,” he repeated. “What’s wrong?”

“How can you not see it?” he asked, getting up from the bed. Dylan sat up unwillingly to better see Marco’s pacing. “Maybe—maybe you’ve just known about it so long that it’s become quite normal for you, hmm?”

“Marco, I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dylan tried to reason with his boyfriend.

“Suuuure, you don’t,” said Marco, crossing his arms, finally discontinuing with his pacing. “My eyes are completely disfigured.”

Dylan had to literally sit back to process what Marco had just said to him, and it still wasn’t making any sense. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t even pretend you don’t know!” Marco was obviously distressed, and Dylan could see it in his eyes. If only he could understand why. “My eyes! They are so far apart! At least 60 inches, I think! I must have been mutated at birth from a normal child. I just—"

Dylan could tell if he didn’t stop him there, Marco would have gone on and on. “Marco!” He waved his hand, gesturing that he wanted Marco to lay back down with him, but he shook his head.

“Marco,” he said again, more softly. “Please come here.” Dylan waited for a moment, but finally decided to talk in the positions they both were because Marco was standing his ground…literally.

“I hate to ruin your latest freaky dilemma, but…this doesn’t need to be one. I seriously see no disfigurement at all on your face,” said Dylan. “In fact, you’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he added charmingly.

Marco tried to hide it, but Dylan detected the trace of a tiny smile forming on his face. However, as quickly as it came, it left. He sighed. “Marco, where did you get that you had disfigured eyes?” he asked. “I mean, out of all the things to worry about!”

“All of the things?” asked Marco, his perfectly figured eyes widening. “What, exactly, do you mean by that? What else is wrong with me??”

“Marco,” said Dylan calmly, “you know that’s not at all what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” he asked, looking hurt.

Dylan put his head in his hands, wishing they could just go back to the peaceful moment where they were lying together, just being happy with life. It had only been five minutes before. Certainly, he could convince Marco to go back to it…right?

Marco surrendered his angry standing position because of weariness taking over. He slid back in bed next to Dylan, but he wasn’t quite done with his conversation.

“I love you,” said Dylan, looking so honestly into Marco’s dark eyes. Marco turned away, muttering the same. Dylan sighed. He was so damn afraid of those eyes suddenly.

“You know there’s nothing wrong with your appearance, Marco! You’re just…who told you that you had ‘bad eyes’?”

“Oh, no one told me!” he said, turning his back toward Dylan. “I just looked in the mirror.”

“You’re kind of like one of those anorexics,” said Dylan, unsure if that was an offensive comment or not. “You see something so much different than the rest of us do.”

“I see the truth.”

“You see what you want to see,” said Dylan. He really hadn’t planned on saying it. He wasn’t even sure he knew that’s how he felt about it, but his mouth always did work faster than his poor brain could ever hope to.

“Why would I want to see something bad?” asked Marco, his voice slightly muffled by the pillows.

“You just want to find something sufficient to complain about when there is NOTHING of the sort,” said Dylan, almost ready to give up on convincing him.

Dylan moved closer to Marco’s back, waiting to be pushed away. He put his arms tightly around his boyfriend’s stomach, leaning his chin on Marco’s back. “I love your eyes,” he said, kissing his shoulder gently.

“Mhmm,” said Marco, rolling his eyes slightly. “I don’t want you to leave again.”

“I know you don’t, baby,” said Dylan. “I have to tell you, though, if you thought that…telling me you didn’t like your eyes would make me stay home…what kind of thought process was that?”

“That’s not why I don’t like my eyes!” Marco denied, ashamed of himself for making Dylan think that. “They make me another step lower than you,” he admitted quietly.

Dylan lifted his chin from Marco’s shoulder blade. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“You are…for lack of a better word, gorgeous. You really are. You could have any guy you wanted, and with your talents, boy, you could go anywhere.”

“I don’t see your point,” said Dylan, becoming impatient.

“I just fear that…after you’ve come home for the week now, from the more exciting wonders of Switzerland…and your team…with strong, amazing, bodies…and—"

“Marco!” said Dylan.

“Not like that, Dyl. I know you weren’t, you know, cheating or anything. It’s just…you say you’re happy to be home, but you also want to go back,” he said, not sure exactly if he was getting the right point across. “I’ve just been feeling like, you’re going to start realizing…I’m not perfect.”

“Marco,” said Dylan, holding his hand comfortingly. “No one is.”

“Yeah, I know, but…I just always kind of thought…it’s stupid,” he said, biting his lip nervously.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s just…always been ‘Marco is good with this’, and ‘Dylan is good with that’. Pretty much the only thing I’m good for is my amazing, note the sarcasm, Dyl, sense of responsibility…”

“Hon,” said Dylan, trying to keep himself from laughing. Marco was serious.

“And now…I don’t even have that anymore. I mean, I got arrested, and I’m kind of trying to find exactly—"

“Wait, what?” asked Dylan, sitting up. Marco sighed.

“I got arrested. Gambling issue. Trespassing…yada yada,” he waved his hand, saying he didn’t want to go any further. Dylan nodded, staring open-mouthed in surprise.

“Anyway, so I just feel like if I’m not good at keeping things together anymore than I don’t know what my purpose is…and I don’t want you to leave me because I’m not per…as perfect as you thought I was,” said Marco, looking down.

“Marco, I have only one complaint about you,” said Dylan. Marco looked up expectantly. “You are crazy! You are absolutely out of your mind if you think that I could ever, for one second, live without you. You got in trouble, you aren’t perfect, lord, we were waiting for it anyway!” he said with a laugh. “Come here,” he kissed him, unable to express how much love he had for him in just one simple kiss.

Dylan ran his fingers across his cheek, his neck, and all along his face, tracing his features with his eyes closed, and then again with his eyes opened. “You’re my everything, you know that.”

“I know…”

“You just like to worry sometimes, I think,” said Dylan, laughing.

Marco nodded, still looking down. “Oh my gosh,” said Dylan, shaking his head. “I’m going to go get a ruler from the drawer in the living room, okay?” he said. “The eyes are so not even close to being sixty inches apart.”

Marco laughed. “I’ll go get it, then.”

“Marco!” he called, as soon as he walked out the door.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Get me a scale too…” he said, touching his stomach. Marco raised his eyebrow. “I’m just wondering!!”

Author’s Note: Please review!

Current Mood: Shot tomorrow!
Current Music: Les Miserables

Breaking the Attachment chapter six. I just figured, 'what the hell? I'll post it here.'

Author’s Note: Teachers are slamming down homework and projects like their lives depend on it. Sorry! I’m trying.

Marco and Corey drove home together, as they usually did, and Marco thought about how he’d successfully spent the rest of the day after lunch not speaking to any of his friends. He wasn’t sure if that made him happy or not.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Corey, laying his hand on Marco’s knee, keeping his eyes on the road. Unlike many guys Marco knew, Corey was a good driver.

Before he could answer, Marco felt his phone vibrating in his pocket again. He wanted to ignore it, assuming it was from Ellie or Paige, but when he saw that it was Dylan, his grew…curious. If Dylan was calling him, it was probably for something important, so that was the only reason why he answered.

“Hey, what’s up?” said Marco, choosing his words carefully so that he didn’t have to say Dylan’s name. He felt guilty only speaking to Dylan.

“Marco,” said Dylan, also taking a moment to consider each word he said, “are you with Corey?” he asked.

Marco turned to the boy next to him, raising an eyebrow. “…yes,” he said slowly into the phone.

“Call me back when he’s gone,” said Dylan, hanging up immediately. Marco took the phone away from his ear, looking at in bewilderment.

“Who was that?” asked Corey. When Marco said he was planning on severing on ties with his friends, was Dylan included?

“Umm,” he stuttered. Why, oh, why did he have to stutter? After that, he couldn’t even attempt to lie because Corey would know it was a lie. He had no reason to feel guilty; he should have skipped the ‘umm’, and said ‘my mother’ or something.

“It—it was Dylan,” he said hesitantly. If he’d been more confident with his answers, maybe Corey would find it more difficult to push him.

Marco was thankful they’d pulled up in the driveway because, otherwise, Marco was sure Corey would have stopped driving completely in the middle of the street. “You’re not speaking to him.” It was said in a final statement. There was none of the usual, ‘I don’t want you to,’ or ‘why do you want to?’ It was, ‘you’re not’, and that was that.

Marco knew, deep inside, that the fact that Corey had escalated was a bad sign of rising power, but he somehow didn’t see it that way. In fact, in a moment of either courage or stupidity, he asked, “Why?”

Marco thanked God for a moment that his parents weren’t home, and fiddled around with his hands, a new habit he’d picked up.

“Why?” Corey repeated, blinking, as though he couldn’t believe Marco would ask such a stupid question. “He’s practically in love with you, Marco. Damnit, I don’t want you talking to other guys. Ever.”

“This is a newly instated law?” he asked. Corey shook his head, hitting Marco across the face. Marco winced, feeling, with the blow, just how angry Corey seemed.

“Trying to be smart with me?” said Corey. “No more boys except for me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said tearfully, knowing better than to just say ‘okay.’

Marco couldn’t recall a time when his boyfriend had ever hit him quite so hard. He could already feel his cheek bruising, and had to work extremely hard to keep from crying. He looked down, ashamed that his hand was shaking. It made him feel like a coward.

“No boys,” said Marco, since Corey was silent. “Only you.”

“Good,” said Corey, without acknowledging what he’d done. “Does Dylan know your house phone number?”

“No…” said Marco, confused.

“You know his number by heart?” asked Corey. “Or just in your cell?”

“Just in my cell,” said Marco, starting to understand where he was going.

“Can I have it, please?” Corey asked sweetly, though Marco knew if he refused, the sweetness would disappear.

Marco didn’t argue. He pulled his phone back out from in his pocket, and dropped it in his boyfriend’s hand. “Bye, Marco,” he said, kissing him.

“Bye,” he said, getting out of the car. No matter what Dylan needed him for, it was apparently going to have to wait.

He walked into his house, with his left hand shaking while he tried to open the front door, and his right hand holding his bruising cheek painfully. He wanted his phone back. He was sure Corey wouldn’t put himself at risk by calling Dylan or anything; he just wanted it so that Marco couldn’t call him.

Marco walked into his bedroom, looking out the window to see that Corey was just leaving. He sighed. “I want my phone back,” he said to himself.

Marco walked away from the window, taking a seat in his desk chair, debating what to do while tapping his fingers of the (still) shaking hand on the desk. He heard the door open and close, and walked out to greet his mother, mainly because he needed something to do to prevent his worry.

“Hey, ma,” he said, walking into the living room.

Marco’s mother smiled at him, kissing his cheek. “How was school, Marco?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Good, I guess.”

She put her bag down beside the kitchen table, looking at him, confused. “What’s going on with your hand?” she asked, sounding worried. “Are you doing that on purpose?”

“Oh,” he looked down at his left hand, silently cursing it. “It’s fine. I need to use the phone,” he said, giving up on trying to ignore his peaking interest in what Dylan may have needed.

“Wait, your face…it has a mark on it,” she said. Marco’s hand immediately jumped to rub the spot almost subconsciously.

“I’m such an idiot,” he said, chuckling. “See, I was walking into the house, and got distracted by Corey, so I decided…let me just walk into the door.”

She didn’t seem to want to press the matter any further, so Marco assumed she believed him.

Marco walked over to the base where the house phone was kept, picking it up, and dialing Paige’s number.

“Hey,” he said, laughing nervously as he walked back to his room. He knew she was probably quite angry with him. “

“What interest could you possibly have with me?” She sounded bitter. “I’m not hiding your boyfriend away in my closet.”

“Dylan called me…” said Marco, “and I kind of want to call him back.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding pleased. “Well, I still don’t see why you—"

“I don’t have my cell phone right now,” he interrupted. “It’s getting fixed, so I need his number.”

She sighed. “Do you know,” Marco asked, “what he needs?”

“Not…exactly,” she answered honestly. “Call him,” she said, not wanting to get further into it. After giving him the phone number, she hung up quickly, wanting to avoid a possible fight. They weren’t exactly on great terms.

Marco wrote the number down on a sheet of paper that sat in front of him on the desk. He ignored his shaking hand, which he seriously hoped wasn’t permanent, and thought for a moment. Calling Dylan was okay, wasn’t it? He hadn’t exactly said, ‘I promise I won’t.’ Corey had simply asked if he understood that he didn’t want him to. He did understand, all right, but that didn’t mean he agreed.

He tossed the phone from one hand to the other, thinking about whether or not it was okay. What if it was an emergency? A real emergency? Then again…if it were an emergency, he’d have probably called his family first. However, Paige had said ‘not exactly’, which meant she had some idea in her head! Maybe it was an emergency! Dylan needed Marco! Or…it could have just been something stupid, so…then again, if it was something silly, why would it matter if Corey found out? He would just tell him, ‘it was something silly.’

Corey didn’t want him to talk to Dylan at all, and that’s why it was a problem. In fact, Corey didn’t want him speaking to any friend but him. Pretty soon, he might not even be allowed to speak with his parents.

No, he had to call. God only knew what Dylan needed, and it could be important, at least, that’s what Marco told himself as the phone was ringing. “Hello,” said Dylan, not recognizing the number.

“It’s Marco. I’m calling from my house,” said Marco, trying to tell by Dylan’s tone of voice if anything was wrong.

“Hey, Marco,” said Dylan. “Thanks for calling.”

Marco waited a moment for Dylan to elaborate. “So…what’s going on?” he asked when Dylan had said nothing.

“Right. I wanted to talk to you about Corey,” said Dylan.

Marco felt he should have known. “Did Paige talk to you about Corey and I or something? She’s being paranoid! I never…Dylan, I don’t need to hear any talk about it or anything. Are you trying—do you think--”?

“I think you’re the one who seems a bit paranoid,” Dylan commented. “Look, Marco, just tell me what’s going on. You know I’ll listen, and I won’t judge you.”

“That’s what you say,” said Marco. “Besides, everything is fine. That’s what you all don’t get. Nothing is wrong.”

“Nothing?” Dylan questioned, disbelieving.

“Nothing,” Marco repeated, and Dylan could tell his answer sounded solid. He was about ready to let him off the hook, considering he had no real proof, but Paige had said…the bruises.

“No, Marco, it can’t be nothing.” He was going to stand his ground. “Why do you have all of these bruises?” he asked.

Marco looked into the body-length mirror, feeling ugly again, knowing that under that cover-up there were so many disfigurements that Dylan hadn’t even seen.

“Do you and Paige enjoy talking about me?” If there was one thing Marco was good at, it was the blame game, and he always found a way to draw the attention off of himself by making someone else look bad.

“Marco, we’re just worried be—"

“Worried?” Marco asked, faking a laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Paige lied to you, Dylan. Don’t you understand? She’s jealous because I don’t spend much time with her anymore. The same with the rest of my friends,” said Marco. “They don’t care about me. They’re just jealous.”

“Marco, I…” Dylan thought for a moment. It actually was a possibility. He wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. After all, he hadn’t seen any bruises himself, so there wasn’t much he could do at that moment.

“It he was hurting you,” Dylan started, and Marco kept his face covered, as though Dylan could see him, “you would tell me, right?”

“Yeah,” said Marco, looking down. How pathetic had he become? He was lying all the time. He thought, after he’d come out, that he was done with that. Apparently not.

“I care about you, you know?” said Dylan. “When I hear someone might be hurting you, I just…I’d be here for you no matter what, Marco. You know that, right?”

Marco wanted to cry. What was he supposed to say to that, and how was he supposed to keep up the act? “Corey loves me,” was all that came out of his mouth.

“Yeah, I suppose he does.” Dylan didn’t mean for it to come out sounding badly, but Marco thought it sounded like he didn’t believe him.

“He does!” said Marco. “Dylan, I…I can’t talk to you.”

“All right. Can we talk later tonight, though? I miss you,” he said, sounding so desperate.

“I mean we can’t,” said Marco, breathing in deeply, “at all.”

“What do you mean?” asked Dylan, hearing the obvious pain in Marco’s voice.

“Nothing,” he laughed, pretending it was fine. “I just, my phone’s getting fixed, but I remembered I could just call you back on this one. Bye.”

“Okay…” said Dylan slowly. “Call me back when?”

“After dinner and homework, I guess. Just…later,” he said, feeling guiltier by the second.

He hung up the phone without saying good-bye, feeling so horrible for disobeying Corey’s orders, but also horrible for lying to the person who he disobeyed orders for in the first place. No sooner than a minute after he walked out of the room, the phone rang again.

“Hello,” he said, weary from the day’s events.

“I’ve thought about it, and I’ve decided I don’t believe you.”

Author’s Note: Please review!

Current Mood: blah

Chapter 5 Breaking the Attachment

Author’s Note: I'm sorry it's not that long. I needed it to end where I ended it :)

The weekend had passed with no calls to or from Marco…other than with Corey, and he was hoping it would stay that way. He’d feared that as soon as he arrived home, he’d get thousands from his concerned friends. It made him happy that he didn’t have to lie to their questions, but also unhappy to think that they didn’t seem to care enough to worry. He was in two minds about the whole situation.

Corey’s calls, however, were extremely apologetic. “I’m sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?” he’d ask nervously.

“No, Corey,” I would say, angry with myself for ignoring the obvious, “I’m fine, and I love you so much.”

The rest of the conversation would be about pleasant things. All in all, Marco thought he could really deal with all of the pain if he wasn’t so desperate to see his friends again. Corey, of course, prevented him from having such a privilege.

“Hey, I have something I want to give you…pre-birthday gift kind of thing,” said Corey. It was Sunday night, and Marco was laying out everything he needed for school the next morning when his boyfriend came in for a surprise visit.

“Really?” asked Marco. “What?”

He sat down on the end of Marco’s bed, motioning for Marco to do the same. “It’s really not a big thing, but I bought it for you because I want you to know how much you mean to me,” said Corey, looking sincere, “and how sorry I am because of what happened the other night.”

Marco swallowed the pain that came back to him when he was forced to think about it, and nodded, waiting for whatever Corey had for him.

“I know I tease you a lot about how…uh feminine you can be, but I hope you like this. It just seemed kind of…you,” said Corey, handing him the jewelry box.

Marco looked at it suspiciously, afraid the piece of (expensive) jewelry inside might jump out to bite him, and finally opened it.

“Oh my go…Corey,” said Marco. He smiled brightly, picking the bracelet up in his hand. “You definitely understand what I like,” he laughed. “It is ‘me’.”

Marco took the silver bracelet out of the box, and ran his fingers along the diamond heart that hung from it. “I am a girl,” he laughed to himself, “but thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” said Corey, looking happier than Marco had ever seen him. How could he ever stay angry with him when he looked so damn ecstatic just because of Marco’s enjoyment of the gift?

“Can you put it on me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Corey, immediately reaching out for the bracelet, but Marco pulled it away.

“How…did this cost you a lot, Core? Because, if it did, I mean—I don’t really need to have it. I mean, I love it and all, but—"

“Marco,” said Corey calmly, “it doesn’t matter, okay? You’re worth every penny.”

Marco smiled. He lived for the good moments they had. They pretty much made his life worth living. “Put it on, please,” he said. After all, a precious gift couldn’t go to waste if Corey really wanted him to take it.

“I have to go,” said Corey, rolling his eyes. “School in the morning, unfortunately,” he kissed Marco quickly. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” Marco answered, closing the door behind him. He couldn’t take the smile off his face while he twisted the bracelet around his wrist. He didn’t care what anyone else might have said because he was very lucky.

“So, Corey didn’t drive you this morning?” asked Ellie the next morning, walking into first period with Marco.

“No, he slept a bit late this morning,” said Marco with a laugh. “So, how come you didn’t come to Paige’s Friday?” he asked, remembering Ellie hadn’t been there.

“Oh, you noticed?” asked Ellie, taking her seat in the back row. “You weren’t too engrossed with your boyfriend?”

“Oh, would you stop being so bitter about this?” said Marco, feeling his frustration level begin to rise.

“I’m not bitter, Marco, okay? He’s, like, controlling you or something,” said Ellie, crossing her arms angrily, and turning away from him. “Marco, I can’t deal with this anymore.”

“Deal with what?” he asked, annoyed.

“Marco, Ellie…don’t make me say this everyday, please. Be quiet,” said Ms. Kwan, giving them a dirty look. They both nodded unenthusiastically.

“Deal with what?” he repeated in a whisper.

“Your boyfriend forbids you to talk to me, Marco,” said Ellie. “That’s a problem.”

“Well, maybe he’s right, El. He always tells me how you’re going to judge, and—"

“I can’t believe you are agreeing with that monster,” said Ellie, attempting to pay attention to whatever their teacher was talking about. They were only a few days in, and she was already lost.

“Don’t call him that,” said Marco. “You know what, he was right about you, and—and you can’t say things like that about him. He’s amazing.”

“Marco, you’re better than him,” she said. Marco didn’t answer. He cared about his studies too much to deal with such crap, so he turned to listen to Ms. Kwan again.

Though Ellie was leaving him be, that far from solved his troubles, he realized when he walked into the cafeteria for lunch.

“Hey, Marco,” said Paige sweetly, but Marco knew her well enough to see through her smile.

“Hi,” he sat down at the table, automatically looking for Ellie. Paige seemed to read his mind.

“She decided she’d rather spend her lunch period in the library today,” se said, picking at her lunch, not being able to concentrate on anything except Marco from the moment he’d sat down.

Marco felt a sense of guilt rise in him, knowing it was his fault she skipped out on her lunch. Marco wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but everyone seemed somewhat different, mainly avoiding his eyes when they usually tried to make conversation with him. They barely even looked at him, let alone one another.

“Is something wrong?” Marco asked.

Paige shook her head slowly, but didn’t look at him. “Paige,” he said, losing his patience quickly.

She finally picked her head up, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he came in, and then glancing down to his wrist.

“What’s that for?” she asked. “Proof that he’s yours?”

“Paige…” said Spinner warningly, putting his hand on her arm to calm her from saying something she’d regret.

“What?” asked Marco. “My bracelet? Your boyfriend can buy you jewelry and mine can’t? Is that what you’re trying to say?” They both got up to stand, and hadn’t even realized it.

The others didn’t say another word, but merely watched in unhappiness, interest, and a slight fear as Paige and Marco argued about pointless things until finally coming to the point of the fight.

“What’s he doing to you?!” she screamed. No one at the table had expected her to get that loud, so they hadn’t done a thing to prevent it. Everyone in the cafeteria turned to stare at them.

“He’s not doing anything,” said Marco, gritting his teeth, and looking expectantly at the heads turned to him, expecting them to turn away. Some of them did, but others weren’t so courteous.

“I’m not an idiot—"

“Paige, your volume,” said Ashley, pointing to the audience.

“Good, let them hear,” said Paige, smirking. “Maybe then Marco will confess if he knows the whole world is about to know.”

Marco stared at her, having the slight urge to hit her, but kicking the thought away as soon as it had come. He wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t do that.

“I’m not really so hungry anymore,” he said, shoving his money back into his pocket.

“Paige, you’re taking a bad approach,” said Jimmy, rolling his eyes. They all wanted to help Marco as much as Paige did, but her worry was taking over, and she wasn’t thinking clearly. She wanted so much for him to give her proof that she would do anything to get him to tell her.

Paige simply ignored Jimmy. “I saw the bruises, Marco. You know I did,” she said, and even more people had started to look. “I’m not stupid. I know what’s going on, and I need to stop this.”

“Why do you want to hurt me?” asked Marco weakly.

“I want to help you,” she said.

“You don’t get it,” he whispered, and people were so interested in Marco and Paige’s conversation that they were trying desperately to hear his voice. They could clearly hear hers.

“No, I don’t. Why are you covering for—"

“Stop,” he pleaded, and Paige could see there were tears in his eyes. “Please stop,” he continued his begging, waiting for Paige to back down.

“If he loved you, he wouldn’t do this to you, Marco,” she said, lowering her voice just a tad after seeing his eyes fill with tears, but it was no use. The students were still listening fixedly.

“Yeah?” said Marco. “Well, if you loved me, you wouldn’t do this.” He turned around, already in a standing position, and walked out of the cafeteria.

“Paige,” said Ashley sternly, “you just made it worse.”

“Well, nobody else was saying anything,” she said, covering up for the fact that she knew she’d screwed up.

“It’s not our place,” said Ashley. “We want to help him, but that’s not exactly the best way. Besides, Marco doesn’t do well with threats and ultimatums. You tell him, ‘admit it or the entire cafeteria will here it,’ he will just leave.”

“As we have seen,” Jimmy threw in, propping his head up in his hands. “What are we going to do? He obviously went to get Corey. That’s who he usually is with this period, anyway.”

“Oh, crap,” said Paige. “You mean he was actually spending lunch with us for the first time in a hundred years, and here I go forcing him to spend it with the guy I was trying to help him avoid?”

“Yes,” they all said at once, not showing mercy.

“Exactly my point,” said Jimmy.

Paige leaned her head down onto Spinner’s shoulder. “I’m so worried about him,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said.

“Hey, what happened?” asked Corey, his arm around Marco while they walked from his study hall room to the library together. Marco had let his tears spill as soon as he’d caught up with Corey.

“Can we…go somewhere else?” asked Marco, drying his tears the best he could. “El’s in the library.”

“Oh,” he said, confused. “You mean you’re finally taking my advice?”

“Yeah,” said Marco, smiling up at him. “I don’t need them. All they want to do is hurt me, right? You’re…you’re the only one who really loves me, Core. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, leaning his head onto the older boy’s shoulder.

Corey kissed the top of his head. “All we need is each other.”

And that was all it took. Brainwashing phase: Complete.

Author’s Note: What did you think? Please review :)

Current Mood: excited
Current Music: Beauty & the Beast lol

Chapter 4. I have so many stories from fanfiction.net that I'm not sure if I should put here or not

Author’s Note: I should probably update Get Out first, but I had inspiration for this chapter, so here we go. Enjoy! Please review.

“Marco,” said Paige gently, making certain that she had covered every spot he needed, “tell me what’s going on.” Paige was smart enough to make guesses, but she’d never assume without his true answer.

“How come Dylan’s home for the weekend?” he asked. It wasn’t just to distract her from the current conversation. He really did want to know.

“He missed us, I guess,” she said. “He wishes you’d visit him more often, so you could talk like you used to.”

Marco nervously drummed his finger on his legs as he moved from the bed to a standing position. Paige looked up at him, concerned.

Marco took a moment to remember exactly what happened the year before. He and Dylan had become pretty good friends after the beach catastrophe and the bashing, even with the fact that Marco had basically told him to leave him alone. They’d survived, and their friendship thrived. Marco told him many of his secrets, problems, and wishes, and Dylan did the same.

When did all that change? Marco had strong feeling for the older boy, and was sure he felt the same, so why didn’t Dylan ever ask him out? He didn’t think that Marco was ready at that time. However, it was quite the contrary. He was ready, which is why as soon as he felt Dylan wasn’t interested, he went for Corey, a quiet boy he befriended. It was more than obvious that he and Corey were attracted to each other, and after falling in love with him, Dylan didn’t matter anymore. Of course, it wasn’t immediate. It had been a gradual thing, but he had fallen so hard for the boy that he was in so deep to just pretend that Corey had no flaws. He cared about and feared him too much to notice that he may have been hurting him so gravely.

But sitting there in Paige’s room, seeing her pain stricken face, he knew that it wasn’t just a few little pointless bruises and scratches, (as he liked to pretend) but it was so much worse.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d known that. Why else would he try to cover them? He never wanted them to worry if it wasn’t necessary. Maybe…it was as bad as Paige made it out to be. ‘No, Marco,’ he thought to himself. ‘Corey only does this because he needs you to stay with him. He’s insecure, and he loves you.’

He shook the painful thought from his head. No one would convince him to get rid of Corey. ‘He loves you,’ he told himself again confidently. He realized he was pacing, so he turned back to his worried friend.

“Nothing’s going on,” said Marco, knowing she wouldn’t believe him, but it didn’t really matter. Corey wasn’t her boyfriend.

“Marco, tell me who did this to you!” she shouted, not in the mood for his games. “Marco, I—" Marco saw there were tears in her eyes. “I care so much about you, Marco, and you keep pushing us all away.”

“Paige, Marco,” said a voice from behind the door. “Um…you both just disappeared, and we’d—"

“We’re coming back out,” said Marco, immediately walking over to the door. He never gave her a straight answer, and he figured it was for the best.

Paige followed him out into the other room, seeing that Jimmy was standing there, looking confused. Marco smiled at him, and then went quickly back into the kitchen.

Paige and Jimmy walked at a much slower pace. “What happened?” he asked.

“He’s hurting him. Marco didn’t say it, but I am going to find a way to prove it,” she whispered furiously, watching from the hallway as Marco hugged his boyfriend.

“Corey’s hurting him?” said Jimmy. “Are you sure?”

“Well, no…but I’m pretty sure,” she said, putting her finger to her lips. Jimmy nodded, knowing they were getting closer to the two they were talking about.

“What happened?” asked Corey, pushing hair out of his eyes, ignoring everyone else in the room.

“Nothing, just…” Marco didn’t think Corey realized how much he had to cover-up, which made him even surer that he didn’t mean to hurt him so badly. Marco was glad for the interruption.

“Why don’t we all get out of the kitchen?” Dylan suggested. Corey rolled his eyes, and kept his arm strongly around Marco’s waist.

They all followed Dylan’s proposal, walking back into the living room, and Marco actually getting a seat next to Corey (as opposed to on top of him.), and Paige made certain to include both of them in conversation. Somehow, in someway, she would prove Corey was, at least, involved in the injuries

“So, Dylan, how is College (University? Lol) going?” asked Jimmy, glancing at Marco’s close proximity with Corey. He couldn’t help it. Paige had put the bad idea into his head. It would explain how Marco had been acting for a while.

“It’s good, I suppose. Missing you all, though,” he smiled innocently in Marco’s direction. Corey didn’t see it as so innocent, though, and Marco could feel his arm tighten painfully around him. He was not looking forward to the ride home.

Marco immediately looked down, giving no smile in return or even any acknowledgement to Dylan. Dylan pretended he wasn’t hurt, moving on with the conversation.

“So,” said Dylan, avoiding Marco’s eyes, “how’s everything with you all?”

“Good,” they chorused. After the odd incident was Marco, everything had become a bit tense and awkward. Marco was sure they had all come up with their own ideas of why he had run into the bathroom.

“You know, I really have to go,” said Corey, mostly speaking to Marco. He was lying, Marco knew. He had nowhere to go. He just didn’t want Marco to be around his friends anymore. “Marco?” said Corey, obviously expecting Marco to get up with him.

Honestly, Marco had never been more afraid to be with Corey than he was at that moment. However, Marco knew he would be in much more trouble with his boyfriend if he didn’t go with him when he asked.

“So, go,” said Paige, clearly implying that she didn’t think he’d be taking Marco with him. She’d given up her polite act with him.

Marco got up reluctantly, grabbing his jacket from the couch, trying not to show Corey how unhappy he was about it.

“Wait, Marco!” said Paige. “Don’t go,” she said, her eyes pleading with him.

Perhaps she wasn’t right. Maybe she was just jumping to conclusions. Marco could have just been leaving because he wanted to (which was almost laughable, but she didn’t want to cause trouble where it wasn’t needed, even if she’d done it before).

Marco walked with Corey to the door, waving a solid good-bye, being pretty impersonal with his friends. He eyed Paige once more before he walked out the door, though. The fear was evident, the begging of ‘please don’t tell anyone what you saw (too late)’, the pain, but the fear.

Perhaps she wasn’t right? Maybe she was jumping to conclusions? No. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind any longer. It took all of her willpower not to practically murder Marco’s boyfriend right there. She breathed in deeply after he shut the door behind them. She couldn’t go after them. If Corey knew she knew, more complications would arise.

Paige, Spinner, Jimmy, Hazel, Craig, and Dylan looked around at each other, utterly bewildered and amazed.

“Doesn’t he just give you a bad vibe?” Hazel asked Dylan.

‘I’ve met him before, Hazel,” said Dylan, rolling his eyes. “Are you still trying to set me up with Marco?”

“It’s something deeper than that now, Dylan…” said Paige, staring out the window, watching Corey and Marco argue.

……………………………………………………………………………………

“Corey, you asked!” said Marco, his hands thrown up in exasperation. They were walking down the driveway to the side of the road, where Corey’s car was parked.

“I don’t care if I asked, Marco! You’re my boyfriend, Marco! Not Dylan’s,” he said angrily, slamming the car door. Marco got in quickly afterwards, closing his own door more gently.

“I love you, Corey. Dylan…Dylan’s nothing. He’s my friend,” said Marco, leaning back against the seat wearily.

“Well, I don’t want him hanging around you, Marco,” said Corey, starting the car. “Okay?”

“I—" Marco started, and then turned to look at Corey’s serious face. He was not driving away until he got his answer, the answer he wanted. “Fine,” he gave up.

“No, not ‘fine’. That only proves that you want to see him.” Corey still didn’t move the car, and Marco was sure people inside were starting to become curious as to why the vehicle was still sitting there if Corey had to leave so badly.

“Well, of course I want to. He’s my friend!” Marco realized he’d made yet another stupid mistake that day. Not only had he been talking back to his boyfriend, but now he had yelled at him, something he was never permitted to do.

Corey turned to him, surprised. “And I said I don’t want you hanging around him. What the hell happened with you today in the bathroom?” Marco was surprised that he’d let the whole yelling fiasco go.

“Ah, I’d had to go to the bathroom for a while, but was ignoring it. When I saw the water shoot at me,” he laughed convincingly, “I realized I had to go take care of that.”

“Oh,” said Corey. Marco wasn’t sure if he believed him or not, but he didn’t press the matter any further.

“Are we going?” asked Marco, anxious to just get home.

“No,” said Corey. “I want you to promise me you will not be around Dylan at all,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Corey, he doesn’t even go to our school—" Corey took his wrist, holding onto it excruciatingly.

“I didn’t ask if he went to our school, Marco,” said Corey, using his intimidating calm voice.

“They’re going to wonder why we haven’t le—"

“Marco!” said Corey, letting go of him, but pushing him roughly away. “You’re avoiding it! I want your answer now!”

“Okay, I’ll never see him. He’s only home for the weekend, anyway,” said Marco.

“Yes, I remember he told you that when you two shared your beautiful hug,” said Corey bitterly. “I don’t want to see you that close with any guy, especially not Dylan, you understand?”

“Yes, Corey!” Corey had ignored his yelling once, though, so why hadn’t he taken that as a blessing? He had to do it again? Marco couldn’t help being slightly stupid, he supposed. He was being told he couldn’t hang around with any of his friends, mainly Dylan, who he had been missing so much.

He saw Corey raise his hand, and immediately closed his eyes, imagining himself somewhere else with Corey. They had good times every once in a while, so he liked to picture those. It reminded him why he stayed with Corey, and lessened the pain…slightly.

Marco was able to keep his hand down after being hit. It was a skill he had acquired after taking so many beatings. He no longer had to lift his hand to rub the spot. He just dealt with it, pretending it had been nothing. The things he did for Corey…

“Do not ever speak to me like that again.”

Marco nodded. “Okay, Core,” he said softly, not yelling. He wasn’t stupid enough to do it a third time. Corey finally started driving.

“So, did you have a good time?” asked Mr. Michalchuk, arriving home later that evening.

“Pretty much, yeah,” said Paige, watching television with her brother on the couch. “Oh! Can you fix the sink?” she asked.

“He’s barely gotten through the door yet, Paige,” Dylan said, laughing.

Paige smiled, grabbing the remote from her brother, turning off whatever junk he had playing.

“I was watching that!” exclaimed Dylan.

“So was I,” said their father from the kitchen.

“No, dad, you were fixing the sink,” she said, pulling her brother off the couch. “We need to talk,” she mumbled, leading him to his bedroom, and closing the door behind them.

“What’s up?” he asked, raising an eyebrow when she laid herself comfortably on his bed, leaving him standing in the doorway.

“Okay, don’t freak out or anything, but I have reason to believe that a certain Marco is in an abusive relationship,” said Paige cautiously.

“Meaning…you just hate Corey? Or do you actually…?”

“He pretty much told me so, and we came in here because the water washed off his cover-up that was hiding bruises and such,” she said.

“Wow,” said Dylan, surprised. “Paige…if we find out that he really is doing this, that boy is going to suffer the consequences,” said Dylan. “Nobody has the right to hurt Marco like that.”

In the midst of the bad situation, Paige smiled. “You care so much about him, Dylan.”

“That I do,” he seated himself down on the only empty spot on his bed, taking his sister’s hand in his own. “Do you have any idea how…when…how long…maybe even why?” he asked.

“I saw the bruises…and I don’t need any proof, Dylan. He was hiding it from us, his personality has changed so much, he…” she paused, “he never wants to be around his friends anymore. Well, he looks like he wants to, but he forces himself to be around Corey instead. He obeys practically his every whim, and you should have seen the look of terror on his face when he was walking out with him, Dylan.”

“He was terrified, and you let him walk out with that guy?” asked Dylan, shocked. “After seeing all those signs? Paige!”

“What was I to do, Dyl? It would only make things worse,” she said, sighing. “I’m so scared for him, and I don’t know how much I can do without just making random accusations.”

“It’s okay, Paige. We’ll figure something out,” he leaned over to hug his sister, attempting to relax her. “I won’t let him get hurt, Paige.”

Author’s Note: Please review :) I didn’t edit this! Bad me! I didn’t have too much time, so hopefully, it’s okay anyway.

Current Mood: bouncy
Current Music: Here By Me

Breaking the attachment chapter 3

Author’s Note: Sorry that this has taken so long. My week has been spent worrying about some things and doing some not so enjoyable reports. Here I am again :)

Marco dressed carefully for the party. He couldn’t look too good because Corey might then accuse him of trying to impress other guys, but he wanted to look good enough. Corey was visiting his father before coming to pick him up, so he couldn’t even ask him for advice on clothing. Actually, asking for advice would also seem like he cared too much.

He tried to calm down, deciding on a simple pair of hip-hugging jeans with a blue, not sloppy, but not so flashy that it would cause alarm, shirt. He was set. Hopefully, Corey would come on time.

Marco walked into the living room, seeing his parents next to each other, watching television. He stepped in front to let them know he needed a word. Marco’s father looked confused, but turned the television off nonetheless, waiting for Marco to speak.

“I’m going to a party at Paige’s house,” he said.

“Oh,” said his mother, looking pleased. “I’m glad you’re going to spend time with your friends again!”

Marco hated to disappoint his mother, but knew he was about to. “Corey’s picking me up,” he said quickly, biting his lip. Marco could tell his mother wanted to say something, but couldn’t with her husband right beside her. Marco’s father nodded, finished with the conversation, and he turned the program he had been watching back on.

Mrs. Del Rossi pointed with her eyes to Marco’s bedroom. Marco walked in first, and she followed. He sat down on the end of his bed, throwing his hands in the air, signaling he was ready for her to lay it on him.

“Marco, having a boyfriend is nice, but sometimes space is a good thing,” she said carefully.

“Ma, we have enough space,” said Marco. “He just likes to be around me quite frequently.”

“But, Marco, he can’t be the main focus of your life right now,” she said sensibly. “Doesn’t he ever want space?” she asked.

“Mom,” said Marco in a voice that suggested a fake sense of calmness, “a guy wants to be around me. Hard to understand?” he asked. “Am I that horrible?”

“Marco, you know that’s not what I mean. I also feel your personality is…somewhat different. Accusatory and overly sensitive sometimes. I don’t want him to change you,” she said, sounding concerned.

“Ma, he’s not changing me,” said Marco. “And I’m not accusing you of anything,” he denied.

“Just a moment ago, you assumed I was saying you were horrible, and that a guy would never want be around you. Maybe the word is…paranoid?”

“I’m not,” said Marco.

“Marco, I just think,” she paused, looking out the window. “He’s here,” she said, not sounding too enthusiastic.

“Better not keep him waiting,” said Marco, knowing Corey would never come to the door. Mrs. Del Rossi wanted to say something, but she didn’t exactly know what. Corey adored her son, and that wasn’t much of a crime. She convinced herself that she was the one being paranoid.

Marco walked out to the car, pulling on his jacket as he approached. “It’s cold,” he said, responding to Corey’s look of disbelief.

Corey shook his head, smiling. “How can you be cold?” he asked.

Marco shrugged, closing the door after he sat down.

Marco and Corey arrived at the house, and after ringing the doorbell, he tried not to be nervous. These people were his friends, so he tried to convince himself that everything was fine.

Dylan answered the door, and Marco was surprised. “Dylan, you’re home!” said Marco happily.

Dylan smiled back, having not seen Marco for about three months. “Just for the weekend, though,” he said.

Marco shrugged, ignoring the fact that Corey was there with him, and leaned up to hug his friend. After a few moments, Dylan let him go.

“Hey, I thought you said you were going to come visit me at school,” said Dylan, raising an eyebrow.

Marco shrugged, looking down, remembering Corey was standing next to him. Dylan turned to look at him for the first time.

He cleared his throat. “Hello, Corey,” he said, feeling uncomfortable. Corey disregarded him, which was not entirely unexpected, so Dylan moved aside to let them through.

Corey immediately grabbed hold of Marco’s hand. Marco sighed. He assumed Corey wasn’t going to let him talk to Dylan that night. He watched Dylan go upstairs, probably to his bedroom, but Marco thought (and hoped) that he’d come back downstairs eventually. He also wondered if Dylan had known Marco was coming, and why he went back upstairs the second he realized Corey was going to be around. Perhaps it was just Marco’s imagination working, but Dylan seemed to have been avoiding Marco even more than Marco had been avoiding him.

“Marco,” said Paige, coming over to hug him as well. “Hey, Corey,” she said with a smile, trying to be as polite as possible.

She knew Marco must have been having a hard time adjusting, so she decided that saying hello was quite enough for that moment.

“So,” started Corey. Marco looked at him, confused. “Sit.”

“There’s no more room,” said Marco. Corey patted his lap, suggesting he sit down. Marco, smiling, obliged.

“Now, explain to me,” said Corey, “why you’re friends with Dylan.”

Marco bit his lip, trying to rid the memories of his crush on Dylan the previous year. He worried because he always felt as though Corey could read his guilty mind.

“I don’t know. He’s nice to me,” said Marco.

Corey, however, wasn’t done. “Do you find him attractive?” he asked.

“Well,” said Marco, cursing himself. What was wrong with him? What hadn’t he just said, ‘no’? He knew how jealous Corey usually became. Though, since he said ‘well’, he was stuck.

“Well, what?” asked Corey. They spoke in low voices, so that the others around him (who weren’t paying attention to them, anyway) wouldn’t hear.

“No, I don’t find him attractive,” he lied.

“You’re lying,” said Corey. It was true that he was, but why did Corey have to see through everything? He had enough power over Marco. Did he also need to be a mind reader?

Marco swallowed carefully. “N-no, I’m not,” he said slowly. Corey wouldn’t do anything while other people were around. At least, Marco didn’t think so. They barely ever were around other people.

Corey looked at him skeptically. “You can tell me, Marco,” he said softly. “I won’t get angry.” Only thing was: it was a lie. He always said things like that, so that Marco would feel more comfortable, and he could lure him in.

Marco knew he was going to get angry, but he knew that if he didn’t say anything, he was going to get a lot angrier. He considered saying ‘no’ again, but that wasn’t really working for Corey.

“Yes,” said Marco quietly, hoping he might not be heard.

“Yes, what?” he probed.

“I do find him…somewhat…attractive,” he said, closing his eyes tightly, wishing he were back in his home.

Before either one of them could say anything else, Dylan came back down the stairs, smiling brightly at the two of the, and sitting on the chair on the other side of the room, conversing with Jimmy and Spinner about hockey.

“Why are you sitting with me?” asked Corey. “Go sit with Dylan,” he suggested, and Marco saw his eyes flash with a mix of jealousy and anger. “You want to.”

Marco shook his head immediately, fearing that flash in his boyfriend’s eyes more than anything on earth.

“Then, he can just come over here,” said Corey. “Dy—"

“Could somebody come fix this, please?” yelled Paige from inside of the kitchen. Dylan sighed.

“I’m guessing she means me,” he said, laughing. Marco tried not to smile because Corey was already getting ideas.

Curious, many of the people in the living room, including Corey and Marco, went into the kitchen. The sink was apparently going out of control, and Dylan was asking her what the hell she had done.

Marco tried not to laugh when he saw that there was, indeed, a hole in the faucet, causing it to spray out everywhere. Dylan was doing his best to prevent it from going in all directions, but the amount of people who came in surprised him, so he let go.

“Dylan!” Paige shrieked, getting doused again with water. Marco, too, had to cover his face, deciding not to scream, however.

“Sorry,” said Dylan, turning the sink off. “No one is allowed to use the sink until my dad figures out what’s wrong with that.”

“Sorry,” said Dylan again, seeing how wet Marco had gotten.

“It’s fine,” he put his hand on his face, carelessly wiping water from it. He paused, covering his entire face with both hands for a moment.

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head in his hands. He knew people were looking at him, confused, but when he looked up, he tried to keep his face covered. “Can I go to the bathroom?” he asked.

“Uh, sure, hon,” said Paige.

Marco walked out of the kitchen, pulling his hands away from his face, and walking into the bathroom down the long hallway from the kitchen. He locked the door behind him. Paige had to have cover-up. He would have brought some with him, but he didn’t assume he was going to be splashed with water.

He dried his face completely with a towel first, then opened the cabinet drawer under the sink, searching.

“Cover-up…where would you be?” he gave up trying to find it in the cabinet.

Marco then heard a soft knock on the door. “Marco,” said Paige. “Marco, are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. He heard her footsteps start to move away from the door.

“Paige, wait!” said Marco, loud enough that she could hear, but not so loud that the others might hear and worry.

“Yes?” she said immediately, making Marco assume she hadn’t really moved.

Marco wasn’t going to find cover-up anywhere without help, so if he walked out without it on, everyone would see and question, but if he got Paige in, she’d help, and only one person would be aware of the bruises.

He unlocked the door, and spoke in a whisper. “Do you have any cover-up?” he asked.

She pulled the door open completely, and had to put her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. She nodded, pulling him into her room before anyone in the kitchen had time to notice.

“What happened?” she asked, once in the safety of her own bedroom. She knew people were going to come looking, but for the moment, she needed to help her friend out.

“I got bashed again like last year,” he lied. Paige couldn’t see through them the way Corey could.

“Really?” she asked. “That’s terrible,” she said, taking out the cover-up from her purse and applying some gently to each and every bruise. Marco wasn’t even aware of how bad they’d gotten. It had become habit to put the make-up on every morning, ignoring each and every malformation of the body.

“Am I good?” he asked.

She nodded. “When did this happen?” she asked.

“Oh…um, a while ago,” he said, shrugging.

“Some of these bruises and cuts are close to healing. Others…no,” said Paige curiously.

“Are you a doctor or something?” said Marco. “Analyzing my cuts!”

Paige looked shocked at the obvious anger he was showing. “Sorry,” she muttered. “When they start to heal, they hurt yellow…” she said softly.

“Mhmm,” said Marco, looking away from her.

“Lately, everything one of us says you think is an accusation…”

Paige looked on the verge of tears when she saw another bruise on the side of his face that she had missed.

“I think you’re lying to me…” she said, softer than ever before.

“I think I am too…” said Marco, looking down, ashamed.

Author’s Note: Please review :) A little upset and frustrated right now :(

Current Mood: frustrated

Chapter 2 of Breaking the Attachment

Author’s Note: Chapter two.

At the end of the day, Marco waited outside of his math class, leaning against the doorway for his boyfriend to pick him up. He resisted the urge to check his watch, knowing that if Corey showed up while he was doing it, he’d probably be annoyed by the gesture.

Students walked out of the room he’d just been in, waving good-byes to him as they left to catch their buses. Marco smiled, trying not to be impatient with Corey. He’d show up when he was ready. Ellie was the last one to walk out of the class.

“Hey,” she said, leaning on the wall next to him. “Corey driving you home?” she asked, pretty sure of the answer he was going to give.

Marco raised his eyebrow, turning to her. “So?” he asked. “It’s easier, anyway. I never have to worry about missing my bus.”

Ellie tried to smile slightly. “Yeah, speaking of which,” she pointed down the hallway, gesturing to the door at the end of it, “I’m going to miss mine.”

Marco nodded, sighing. Corey was taking quite a while. Apparently, Ellie wasn’t quite done with him. “You and I are doing something this week,” she said.

Marco rolled his eyes. “You and Paige have just decided the best way to get through to me is to order me around, hmm?” he said. “Go home, Ellie. Call your boyfriend or something.”

Ellie turned her head to see Corey walking towards them. She turned back to Marco. “You’ve changed, Marco. You really have,” she said, shaking her head, astonished.

Marco watched Ellie walk away, feeling slightly unhappy about it, but relieved that he wouldn’t have to make up an excuse for why he couldn’t hang out with her for a while. She was angry with him, so he assumed she wouldn’t want to spend time with him after that conversation.

Corey broke into an immediate smile upon seeing his boyfriend. He took his hand, entwining their fingers. “Let’s go,” he said, inches away from Marco’s lips.

Marco kissed him lovingly. “Okay,” he replied.

Marco and Corey walked out to Corey’s car together, hands swinging in the air. “So, how was the first day?” asked Corey while he started the car.

“It was okay, I suppose,” answered Marco. “I mean, I missed being with you the whole day, of course,” he added quickly.

Corey was obviously pleased with his answer. “So, you want to come over my house?” he asked.

“Wait, like now?” he asked, confused.

“Yeah,” said Corey, already turning toward his own street.

“I…well, yeah, I guess,” said Marco. Corey looked at him with his eyebrows raised. “Well, I just mean, you know, I should probably ask my par—okay,” he finished, noticing they were pulling into his driveway.

“I just need to see you,” said Corey, pouting. “I miss you, sweetie.”

Corey pushed that extremely annoying piece of hair out of Marco’s eyes, and Marco stared back into Corey’s own. “My parents will be fine with it, I’m sure,” he lied. Maybe his mother would understand. He needed to spend time with his boyfriend every once in a while. However, that argument would have been more convincing had he not used it every day during the summer.

“Come on,” said Corey, leading him into the house.

“Is your mom at home?” Marco asked, walking in with Corey after he opened the front door.

“She’s at work,” he said, shrugging, and picking up an apple from the fruit bowl. “Come on,” said Corey, leading him to his bedroom.

Marco smiled at the familiar room, sitting down next to Corey on the bed. “I bought you something,” said Corey. “You know, for next week.”

Marco’s birthday. Corey bought him something for his birthday. He was so sweet. “I can’t see it early?” asked Marco, leaning onto his shoulder.

“No,” said Corey sternly, kissing the top of his head.

“So,” said Marco, forgetting the subject entirely, “My friends need me to sit with them at lunch tomorrow,” he brought it up cautiously.

“They need you?” he asked skeptically.

Marco nodded. “It’s stupid, I know,” he said hurriedly, “but I do only have a limited time with them lately…so, I thought I might.”

“Because they need you?” asked Corey. “What if I need you too?”

“Well, I know you do, Core,” said Marco, “but they—"

“—are more important to you?” he interrupted, not looking very happy. “Are they, Marco?” he asked, standing up.

“No, of course not,” said Marco nervously. “Corey,” he said gently, trying to calm him down, “you mean more to me than anything on earth.”

“Then, why will you choose them over me?” he raised his voice slightly.

“I just…because they get worried, I guess.”

Corey looked at him, his eyes narrowed. “Why would they have to be worried?” he asked. “What did you say to them? Is there something I should be worried about? Or is it me?”

“No, of course not,” said Marco, standing up as well, giving himself the ability to take Corey’s hand in his own. “They just get worried easily, you know, because they care about me.”

Corey ripped his hand away violently, and Marco didn’t like where the situation was going. He tried to back away nonchalantly, so that Corey didn’t question him, but Corey only ended up moving closer.

“Are you insinuating that I don’t care about you, Marco?” he asked, now dangerously near.

Marco breathed in deeply, pretending that Corey was a dog. He couldn’t show that he was afraid. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I kn—know you do, Corey. I just…you know what, you’re right. I don’t need to hang out with them tomorrow,” said Marco, hoping that would be the end.

However, Corey wasn’t done. “You want to, though. Obviously, your friends hold some degree of importance to you. I gave up everything for you, but you won’t for me,” he said, shaking his head in anger.

“That’s ridiculous,” said Marco. He’d meant that it would be ridiculous to ever hold his friends as more important than Corey, but he knew, by the way his face got even angrier, how Corey had taken it.

“I’m ridiculous?” he asked, his hand shaking. “Am I insane too, Marco? Please, hurt me some more…”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Marco. “When I called you insane the other day, you know I didn’t mean it! I was upset. Corey, please relax.”

“I’m relaxed!” he shouted, taking a step closer every time Marco took a step back.

“No, you’re not,” said Marco shakily, feeling stupider by the moment. Why was he still talking? He stopped moving, and prepared himself for the blow. Sometimes, it wasn’t actually that bad if he didn’t think too much about it, but it wasn’t one of those times. Marco had to bite his lip to stop himself from loudly crying out in pain.

“Don’t talk back to me,” Corey warned, his hand still high in the air, and Marco wondered for a moment if he was going to be hit again, but Corey lowered his arm.

“I’m sorry,” Marco whispered, looking anywhere but at him.

Corey took a moment to answer. The two boys were standing two inches from each other, searching for something to say or do until Corey put his hand on Marco’s cheek, which caught him by surprise, causing him to flinch. Corey immediately pulled his hand away.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked innocently, and for a moment, Marco was tempted to believe that Corey wasn’t the one who hit him.

Marco shook his head quickly. Corey didn’t really mean it, he was sure. He’d just overreacted because of his need to be around Marco. He needed Marco, and Marco was stupid to have brought up the lunch idea.

“No, Corey,” he didn’t need to make him feel guilty, “you didn’t hurt me. I do have to get home really badly, though. My mom needs me for—"

“Okay, I’ll take you,” said Corey. It was much easier to get him to agree after he’d caused some amount of pain on Marco. Maybe it was to prove he wasn’t a horrible person, but Marco knew when to ask what. Normally.

“Thanks,” said Marco, grabbing his bag from off the floor, and letting Corey’s arm take its usual position around his waist again while they walked out to the car.

There was not much conversation on the way back to Marco’s house. Marco spent most of the time thinking, and Corey pretty much left him to it. When they pulled into the driveway, Corey gave him a kiss good-bye, telling him he loved him.

“I love you too, Core,” he replied, walking back into his house. Corey didn’t pull out until he was sure Marco had closed the door shut. He cared like that, Marco reminded himself.

“Marco?” said his mother, walking out of the kitchen, a look of worry gracing her features. “Marco, where were you?” she asked.

“I…” he looked down at the floor, deciding, whenever possible, not to lie to his parents. “I was with Corey.”

“And you didn’t call?” she asked. “You could have called. I was worried,” she said, putting her hand over her heart, and Marco felt bad.

“I’m sorry, ma,” he said honestly.

She nodded, forgiving him quickly. Curse of the family. “Paige called,” she said, “just a few minutes ago. I told her to call your cell phone, but she said she’d just wait for you to get home.”

“All right,” said Marco, pulling his phone out of his pocket while he walked to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“Hello,” she answered after two rings.

“Hey, it’s Marco,” he replied, laying down on his bed. “You called?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to bother you on your cell if you were with…your boyfriend,” she said, trying to keep herself together. “So, I’m having a party tomorrow to celebrate the first week of school being over. Okay, so we only have two days this week, but whatever,” she laughed. “I want you to come.”

“Oh,” said Marco, ashamed at himself for not coming up with an excuse before calling her. He should have known he was going to be invited to something. “Yeah, sure, but…can I bring Corey?” he asked, knowing that he’d have some trouble asking Corey for permission to go, but it would be easier if his boyfriend knew he could attend as well.

“Yeah,” Paige said, rolling her eyes, “sure.” She knew he wouldn’t come if she offended Corey in some way. “Six tomorrow night,” she said.

“Okay,” he said, glad to have something to look forward to, even if there was the slight chance Corey told him he didn’t want him going. “Uh, Paige, I have another call, so—"

“Oh, sure,” said Paige, “I’m using my brother’s cell without his permission anyway, so I have to go too.”

Marco forced a laugh. He knew who was calling him. “Bye, Paige,” he said softly, a part of him not wanting her to hang up. He loved talking to Corey, but it brought him one step closer to finding out that he wasn’t going to be allowed to go to Paige’s party. He really did want to see his friends again, even if he denied it to himself many times a day.

He answered the other call, not surprised when he heard Corey’s voice. “Miss me?” Marco asked.

“So much,” Corey answered seriously. “You have to come over my house one of these days when my mom is around. She misses you too,” he laughed.

“I’m sure,” said Marco. He took a deep breath, and spoke quickly, needing to get it out as soon as possible. “Paige is having a party tomorrow, and I’d really like to go, and I’d love for you to come with me. Please?” he said so quickly that he wasn’t even sure if his boyfriend had comprehended.

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “Yeah, sure,” said Corey.

Marco smiled. “Really?” he said, sounding equally surprised. “Thank you so much!”

Corey laughed at the enthusiasm. “No problem, baby. Who is going to be there?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Marco, which wasn’t a complete lie. He had assumptions of some people who were going to show up, like Ellie, but he wasn’t about to tell Corey that. After all, he’d finally gotten permission to go somewhere. He wasn’t going to ruin it.

Author’s Note: Please review :)

Current Mood: busy

New Story
I have about a thousand stories on fanfiction, but I decided I'd post my newest one here since I never use my LiveJournal account lol. I forgot I had one for a while. This is chapter one of "Beaking the Attachment." Enjoy. It's Darco, by the way. I hate this font. It's also a little bit of an alternate universe story, meaning some things are different.

Marco stared at himself in his full-length mirror, scrutinizing every feature with utter dislike. He moved one annoying strand of hair from one side to the other, his finger shaking slightly as he did so. He was beginning to hate his appearance, especially since it reminded him of his weaknesses. He sighed, biting his lip.

Marco walked down the hallway, careful to avoid his parents while he stepped past their bedroom. The bathroom was the door right next to it. He opened the cabinet under the sink, pulling out his mother’s make-up bag. He took out the small case that held the cover-up. Feeling ashamed that he had to make himself feel even more feminine, he slowly applied the cover-up to every ugly bruise on his face. Everything else on his body was covered, so he didn’t worry about those.

After he was satisfied with the job he’d done, he met his mother outside of the bathroom door. He smiled convincingly at her, and she was fooled, smiling back at him, and sliding past him into the bathroom while he walked out.

“Good morning,” she said gently after closing the door.

“Morning,” he replied, walking into the kitchen where his father was seated at the table, a piece of toast in hand.

“Hey, dad,” said Marco pleasantly, taking a seat across from him.

“Morning, Marco,” said his father in the same pleasant tone. “Ready for first day of eleventh grade?” he asked, smiling.

Marco shrugged. “Guess I really have no choice,” he laughed.

“Good attitude, I suppose,” he chuckled. “So, you sixteen, Marco. I see girlfriend in your future, hmm?” he raised an eyebrow.

Marco rolled his eyes good-naturedly, hiding the fact that it hurt him to have to lie to his own father constantly. “Sure, Pa,” he said, smiling. “Maybe one day soon.”

“This year’s your year,” his father told him confidently.

Marco nodded, humoring him. His cell phone vibrated in his jeans’ pocket, so he quickly excused himself to the front yard to answer it. His father didn’t seem to mind.

“Hello,” he said happily. He knew who it was.

“Hey, baby,” said the other boy. “Am I driving you this morning?”

Marco thought it over. It was possible that he could get a ride with his father on his way to work, but he figured Corey would be more disappointed if he refused, so he went with his gut.

“Of course,” said Marco, not letting him know he had been debating it. “When can you be here?”

“I’m on my way over,” he said immediately, leading Marco to believe that he was going to come whether or not Marco told him he needed him. Marco told himself that he made the better choice.

“Dad,” he called out, walking back into the house, seeing that his mother was back in the kitchen sitting with his father. “I’m going to go outside to wait for Corey, all right?”

His parents nodded, waving their good-byes. Marco smiled at the easy getaway. Sometimes, it would take much more convincing because his mother didn’t like Corey. She thought his car was a mess, and more importantly, so was Corey. It wasn’t that Marco particularly agreed with her, but…well…she was right about one thing. He needed to clean the car.

Marco’s mother knew that he was dating Corey. She had gotten over the fact that he was gay after a short while, but she’d never accept Corey as his boyfriend. When his father wasn’t around, she’d explain how much better she thought he could do than Corey Stenchever. Still, she realized that it wasn’t going to change his mind about the boy he loved so much, so she, for the most part, let him be. Of course, if she saw why Marco was using her cover-up, she might reconsider ever letting him be around Corey.

Marco walked back outside, not so surprised to see Corey’s car already in the driveway, waiting for him. He opened the door, sitting down in the passenger seat next to his boyfriend. He made sure that his father was nowhere to be seen in the window before leaning over to kiss him. Corey smiled into the kiss, pulling away to drive.

“Excited?” asked Corey, turning the corner.

“I don’t know,” Marco shrugged. “You?” he asked, leaning against the window.

“Are you kidding?” his boyfriend asked, turning to him with a look of disbelief. “I don’t get to see you all day long! Why would I be excited?” he asked.

Marco smiled. Corey was amazing. There would always be people like his mother and Ellie to tell him Corey was no good for him, but they didn’t know anything. They saw some crazy things about him, but they didn’t know the true Corey he was on the inside.

Corey and Marco pulled into the school parking lot. They both got out of the car, and Corey immediately put his arm around Marco’s waist, glaring at anyone who dared to look at them. Marco considered telling him that they were probably just curious, but didn’t. Corey might not have approved very much of that statement, so he didn’t want to risk it.

“Marco! I’ve barely seen you all summer,” exclaimed Ellie, seeing him walk up to the door of their homeroom with Corey by his side. She kept her face neutral, looking away from Corey back to Marco again. She put her arms around his neck, and he hugged her close. “Come on, we have to go in,” she said, pulling at his arm because he didn’t budge.

“Be there in a second,” said Marco, shooing her in, sensing that Corey didn’t want him to simply go in with her, especially without giving a proper farewell.

Ellie nodded, resisting the urge to roll her eyes, and went into the classroom alone. Marco turned back to Corey. “I have to go,” he said, pointing into the classroom, reminding him.

Corey nodded, leaning over to kiss him. “I love you, Marco,” he said slowly.

“I love you too,” replied Marco, turning to walk into the classroom, but Corey pulled him back.

“I don’t like her, Marco,” said Corey. Marco hated when he started to say his name at the end of every sentence. It usually meant he was angry. Marco said nothing; he didn’t know what to say. Corey waited, and then carried on. “I don’t want you to hang out with her out of school, okay?”

The bell rang, and Marco didn’t have time to argue. He didn’t think it was the proper place to do so, anyway, so he nodded, pretending that he actually meant it without giving him a solid answer, and then turning back to walk into the classroom.

“Wait,” said Corey, pulling on his arm. “I said ‘okay’?” His face had gone quickly from a half-smile to a look of pure anger. He waited for Marco’s response.

Marco nodded, closing his eyes and biting his lip, preventing himself from talking back. The problem was Corey wanted a verbal answer. “Okay,” he said, taking quite a bit of strength to simply get the word out.

Immediately, Corey’s face broke into a wide smile. He leaned down, kissed his younger boyfriend, and ran down the hallway to his own class.

Marco opened the door, embarrassed when he saw Ms. Kwan give him a look of disapproval. Since he wasn’t a frequent late boy, she waved it off, but told him to not make a habit of it. He nodded, taking his usual seat next to Ellie in the back corner of the room.

“Late, hmm?” said Ellie, not looking up from her notebook.

“Yeah,” said Marco, fidgeting with his hands. He hated the feeling of missing Corey. He really hated it because he sat there, waiting to see him again, and was never too pleased with the outcome of their meetings. That wasn’t actually true. Many times, they did enjoy themselves together, but no matter what, he would spend all of his free time thinking about him, knowing there was a good chance they would simply argue.

“Marco, I wanted—"

“Welcome to grade eleven. This year…”

While Ms. Kwan droned on, Ellie tried to have a conversation with Marco. “As I was saying in the hallway,” she said, “I barely got to see my best friend this summer, Marco. I missed you.”

Marco shrugged. “We saw each other,” he whispered back, half listening to the teacher, and half of his attention was focused on Ellie.

“But barely,” she said, not bothering to keep her voice down.

“Ms. Nash!” said Ms. Kwan, her arms crossed.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Kwan,” she apologized. “Continue, please.”

After Ms. Kwan began her lecture again, Ellie decided to make her discussion quieter. “Look, can we hang out tonight?” she asked. “You know, like we used to?”

Marco stared at Ms. Kwan, as if her speech might give him the perfect answer to her question. “I can’t,” he said, turning to her, doing his best to look apologetic about it. “I promised my dad I’d help him with something at work,” he lied.

“Oh,” she whispered, turning her head to one side. “Maybe tomorrow…?” she suggested.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he repeated, pointing at Ms. Kwan, telling her that they had to start paying attention. After all, late or not, he was still a responsible student.

Marco spent his lunch period with Corey, much to the dismay of his friends. Ellie sat down, as she had become accustomed to at the end of the previous year, with Paige, Jimmy, Spinner, Craig, Ashley, and Hazel.

“Okay,” said Paige, clapping her hands together, “who says Marco spends too much time with Corey?”

“Oh, definitely me,” said Ellie, surprised that she was agreeing with Paige.

Ashley rolled her eyes, popping a French fry in her mouth. “Well, I think we’re being extremely immature about this. I mean, we can spend endless amounts of time with our boyfriends, but when it’s Marco…this happens?”

Jimmy nodded. “Girl’s got a point,” he said.

Hazel looked thoughtful. “Well, I think it’s because Corey is so against sitting with us, you know? Maybe that’s why we think it’s weird because all they do is spend time alone together. He pulls Marco away from us,” she said after a moment.

“Yeah,” said Spinner. “It’s like he hates us or something,” he said with his mouth full.

Paige chastised him for speaking with his mouth full, and then spoke to the group again. “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging. “It’s not like it’s a big deal. It’s not like I hate Corey or anything. I just wish I could spend more time with Marco again, you know?”

Ellie agreed. “I think Corey hates me,” she said, “so I have no problem saying that he’s not my favorite person either.”

“Look,” said Ashley, “there’s only a few more minutes in the period, so Marco is probably going to come back soon. Let’s stop talking about him, all right?”

They all nodded, deciding that the best way to get their friend to start spending more time with them was not him finding them talking badly about him behind his back. That would make matters worse.

“Hey,” said Marco, sitting in the empty chair next to Spinner.

“Did you eat?” asked Paige, looking past Spinner to see him.

“No food in the library, remember?” said Marco. “The bell’s going to ring in a minute, anyway. I’ll eat when I get home,” he said, showing that it was no big deal at all to him.

“Marco, what does Corey have this period?” asked Hazel curiously, trying to act as if it was just an innocent question.

“He’s free this period. Why?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

Hazel didn’t answer his question. “So, you give up eating to sit in the library with him the whole period?” she asked.

“Hazel,” Ashley warned, her eyes showing that she didn’t want Hazel to start anything she’d later regret.

“Whatever,” said Hazel, getting up to throw out her trash.

“Okay,” said Marco, laughing slightly. He looked at everyone, confused. “What?” he asked.

“Marco, spend lunch with us tomorrow,” said Paige. “It’s not a request; it’s an order.”

Author’s Note: It will get better. It will make more sense, and the next chapter will be up soon (if you review). :) I hope you enjoyed chapter one. There’s way more to come. The drama has yet to truly begin.

Current Mood: content
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Trying to Post

So, I'm mainly trying to see if this works because it never has for me before! If it does, then maybe I'll post something worth reading lol.

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