Hello all. I bring you the first installment of what I like to call "the project." It will be pretty big considering I had planned it as a one-shot even if it didn't turn out that way. I have two chapters ready to go, so if I get a few nice reviews I'll post the next chapter real quick like.

Warnings? Swearing. That's about as bad as my fics go. lol

Marco/Dylan. Everyone probably knew this before they clicked the link. But...I'm warning anyway. If it bothers you...why are you here?

Marco leaned against the car door more firmly, blowing hot air onto his frozen hands and trying in vain to ignore the clumps of snow forming on his eyelashes. In the distance a sickly yellow light glowed out, piercing the fast approaching darkness and beckoning him forward, a promise of warmth if he would just move from where he stood.

The invitation was hard to deny, he admitted. It was very cold out after all, and the parking lot was hardly the place to stay warm in the depths of December. It had snowed for the entire journey here, his windshield fogging up at inopportune times and more than a few cars driving too slowly in fear of their tires sliding on the ice. But here he was. Even from this far away Marco could see the little balloons outside the gym doors bobbing up and down like sightless specters, partially obscuring the sign they were attached to.

2005 High School Reunion.

It had been ten long years since he'd stepped foot into this school. A decade of sunrises and sunsets that he had not entered those doors. Ten years since he had left everything he had ever known and the place he'd once called home behind.

Minute by quiet, crystalline minute ticked by and Marco could feel his indecision growing, becoming a dull roar behind his temples as his mind battled between the apprehension and the longing to be warm. A glance at his watch told him he'd been out here for an hour in this peaceful but loud quiet, the silence only broken every once in a while when the gym doors would open and a slightly giggly couple would come out for a cigarette. Each time he would duck and crouch down next to his tires, waiting until he heard the metal clink of the doors closing shut behind them before he resumed his prior position against the car.

Marco didn't know why he was here. He had to be at the office by noon tomorrow and he really should be sleeping right now instead of driving all over the country to former school functions. He wished he knew what had possessed him to take the mailed invitation seriously anyway. Why he had climbed into his tin pot of a car and drove all over the place to a past he'd been running from. He certainly confused himself at times.

Marco popped his knuckles thoughtfully as he stared at the gym building in curious but strained fascination. It didn't look too different. It was still the ugly off white color it had always been and there were still a few hardly noticeable burn marks from the dance he had put together so long ago. Marco even fancied he could see the crack in the wall where Spinner had attacked it with his skateboard senior year.

No, the only real difference to the place at all was that Marco knew the history. He knew what this place meant to him and he alone knew the reasons why he had been avoiding it like plague since graduation. However, the fact still remained that he was indeed; outside of Degrassi Community School. School and the light from inside was all but begging him to shed his fears and join in.

Screwing up his courage Marco sighed deeply and shoved his hands into his pockets before starting up the short but icy walk from the parking lot to the gymnasium. He hadn't come all this way to cower by the car after all. No matter how appealing that sounded.

Upon reaching the building a man and a woman that he didn't recognized swept out just as he pulled open the doors. Luckily they were two people he'd never been friends with back at school and he easily side-stepped them, swinging the door widely before stepping inside.

Loud voices and gaudy pink and blue lights assaulted him once he was safely in the warm confines of the building, and through the pressing sea of bodies Marco first targeted, and then made his way over to the punch bowl in the corner. His throat was sore from standing out in the cold and his thin clothes had not helped any. The thought of a drink sounded heavenly.

Halfway there a pair of broad shoulders suddenly blocked his path and Marco felt his lips thin into a tight line of irritation. He rolled his eyes, once again wishing he were anywhere but here, and reached up, tapping this roadblock of a person's jersey clad back.

"Sorry, but could I maybe get by? My throat is killing me," Marco asked as angelically as he could in his high strung state, tacking on a shy smile for good measure, hoping that maybe this man wouldn't take offense to his brusque manner and simply step aside.

His smile slid out of existence however when the stranger turned around and blue eyes met his. "Marco? Is that you?"

The dark haired boy darted his eyes this way and that, bouncing his gaze around the room looking for a quick escape. This wasn't supposed to happen, he thought. Former seniors shouldn't be here at an '05 reunion. Why must his past always catch up with him no matter how far he ran away? Of all the people, all the reminders that this day could have thrown his way, the very last and least plausible of them all happened to find himself standing before him. Dylan Michalchuk.

"Um, yes. Excuse me," he said before he slipped by the taller man towards the punch bowl, trying to ignore the anxiety pouring off of him in waves. He offered the bald man behind the table a smile as he poured him a drink before taking it and enjoying the coolness of the punch, almost sighing with relief as it slipped down his throat.

A tap on the back made him choke however. "So where have you been?" Marco craned his neck, looking over his shoulder at Dylan feeling a distinct lightning bolt of unease rush through him.

"I've been...I've been busy," he answered truthfully enough, watching as the blonde's expression tightened considerably. Thanking the punch man Marco decided now was perhaps the time to leave and started to quickly shove his way to the doors he had come in through, vaguely aware of the man was still following him.

A rather loud bang greeted his ears as he shoved the metal doors open wide and a gust of freezing wind attacked his face the moment he was outside. The sunset was now gone, only darkness and yellow lamplight reflecting off snow in its place. Marco shoved his hands deep into his pockets and fumbled for his car keys, shuddering at how cold they were against his fingers once he found them.

"Marco! Wait! Can we talk before you leave?" yelled the overly familiar voice of the man following him, still as spine tinglingly gravelly as it had always been and leaving him little choice but to listen. "It's been years. I've-well we've all missed you really."

The Italian boy stopped, considering. Years wasn't even an appropriate word. Ten long years, that's how long it had been since he'd seen or spoken to Dylan. But here he was, as solid and real as he himself was ...with yet another invitation that he was having trouble ignoring.

With a sigh that came out as a puff of white Marco turned around to face his boyfriend of so long ago. Like the school, Dylan hadn't changed much. His hair was a tad bit longer and now a dark brown instead of his former blonde. His eyes were the same, still as bright and sparkling as they had always been. He wasn't taller, though maybe his shoulder's were broader and they made his posture seem much straighter and more powerful. All in all, time had been very good to Dylan, Marco mused as the familiar feeling of adoration and thinly veiled physical appreciation swelled up inside of him.

"A-alright." The reply was softly spoken, his voice cracking under the pressure and making him sound as if the very thought was shattering his mind to an incoherent mess. Not terribly far off, he snarled internally.

The pause after his words made him slightly hopeful that Dylan would change his mind, though his hopes disappeared as the blonde boy smiled beatifically and waved him over to a bench. Brushing the snow off of the seat with one wool covered hand Dylan began the questioning that Marco was dreading.

"So where did you run off to? No one has seen hide nor hair of you since graduation. Hazel started speculating that you had died after a couple of months."

The question was made carefully, guarded and wary of the other person's wish to run at any moment, but with an easy and friendly demeanor glossed over the top of them, more a form of small talk than anything else. Marco sighed resignedly and brushed his now long, black hair out of his face.

"I...I've been in New York actually."

"You're in the big city now kid. You pay or you find a nice park bench."

Marco shook his head, trying to keep his thoughts at a dull roar until this conversation ended. Or abruptly fell apart, he reminded himself.

"New York!" Dylan exclaimed, scooting that little bit closer and seeming to get excited. "Didn't know you had it in you Marco. Wow. Is it nice there?"

Marco nodded without really noticing his action, fearing where their conversation might go and far from not noticing that the space between them had lessened. He just wanted to go home, he thought. He wanted to go home and sleep until his shift started the next day and he could forgot this botched night ever happened.

"Hm. What made you leave the country though? I thought you loved Canada." The change in Dylan's voice was apparent, going from a lilt of cajolery to a softer note. The questions were swerving now, he thought, and Marco knew it was time to end this chat before Dylan found out more than needed.

"I-I should go. I have work soon, and I've got to drive home. I need sleep," he said, his parting words coming out in a jumble of rushed words as the dark haired boy jumped up from his place on the bench and quickly shuffled over to the borrowed heap of junk that he called a car.

"It was nice seeing you again, Marco," a soft voice called after him.

He stopped and looked back at Dylan. Ten long years.

"Yes. It was nice seeing you as well," he hastily called back, turning his head and never looked back.

Liar.

An exhausting thirteen hours later Marco pulled up beside an old decrepit looking building, a few mangy cats scattering after being flashed by his headlights and knocking down quite a large collection of banged up trashcans in their hurry to retreat. The place had probably seen better days, but it was the less desirable things about the place that made it so cheap, so Marco wasn't about to complain. It wasn't like you couldn't get used to the yelling neighbors downstairs or the disgusting smells.

Thinking of the alternative...he had made the right choice.

Fumbling for his keys a cat slithered around his ankles, butting its head against his dirty trainers and mewling into his shoelaces. Marco smiled tiredly and bent down to scratch the back of the grey feline's ears as he tried to fight the exhaustion pulsing behind his eyes. "Hey Tully. Did Mrs. Dudley kick you out again?"

The cat, affectionately known as Tully, turned yellow lamp like eyes up at the Italian man and mrred as if answering his question with the ease of any human. Marco sighed and straightened back up, hearing his knees pop loudly in protest at the quick movement.

"Yeah, well the woman's about to throw me out on my ass from this dump as well, so I suppose we're in the same boat you and I," he bit out agitatedly, unlocking and opening the door.

Tully slipped through the opening without a sound, reminding him very much of an animal he had read about in one of JK Rowling's books called a lethifold. Completely silent and deadly, nothing more than a shadow before it smothers you and eats you whole, not even a trace that someone had ever been there at all.

Marco smiled. It was obviously very late if he was comparing the sweet natured cat that hung about his room to a dangerous, and completely mythical creature. He watched the swift moving ball of fluff as his eyes strained to adjust to the darkness of the room and saw it settle at the end of his mattress, luminous eyes turning to watch him right back.

Marco harrumphed at the fact that the cat was more comfortable in his own apartment than he was as he looked in the fridge. There was a single bottle of water (he didn't trust himself to drink the tap of this place) and a jar of mayonnaise that had been there since he'd rented the place. Nothing edible it would seem. He sighed and slammed it shut, gritting his teeth together to make himself ignore the gnawing of his stomach.

Perfect ending to this perfectly hellish day.

Throwing himself onto the mattress on the floor, Marco lifted up an arm for his companion to slip under. He sighed, shutting his eyes against the streetlight flooding in through the bare window and hoped the sirens a few blocks away would go away soon, fully intent to sleep the full five hours before noon.

A few minutes later, as the fatigue in his mind was catching up with him and allowing him to slip off his eyes were forced to ping open when a soft knock at the door reached his ears. Marco groaned out loud, not even caring to disguise his disgust at having a visitor so early in the morning, and hoped it wasn't his landlord. He drug himself up, noticing he should have changed before going to sleep, as he was still wearing the threadbare brown sweater and baggy cargos he had thrown on a day and a half ago. Marco swallowed the scathing comments on the tip of his tongue before he unlocked and opened the door, squinting as the light flooded into his dark little world.

In the dimly lit hallway stood a woman with long black hair, a hot pink streak in the front falling into her eyes. She looked a bit peeved, but otherwise her young face held no flaws. Small, doll-like hands with ebony nails gripped a carton of what looked like Chinese takeaway, and her rather large boots squeaked slightly as she shifted from foot to foot. Hazel eyes took in his appearance with one swift, practiced glance, assessing his mood quickly before smiling very softly as if to persuade his temper into staying hidden.

"Anne... you do realize it's going on seven in the morning don't you?" he pointed out.

The petite girl side-stepped Marco easily and walked in over to the bed, crossing her legs and plopping down onto the floor with quite a lot more grace than one would imagine possible wearing shoes like that. She moved around a bit, rocking in place in front of his mattress to get comfortable and popped open the box.

"And you haven't eaten Adamo." Marco felt a long hidden piece of his mind wince at the name but no outward reaction occurred due to years of practice.

"No. I'm not hungry really," he mumbled, feeling a deep blush rise up when his stomach decided that that moment was perfect to tell his friend just how hungry he really was. Even in the dark he could see her cock an eyebrow at the noise.

"Okay, how did you know anyway?" he asked as she handed him the carton and he lowered himself down onto the mattress. She lay down on her back and stretched out lazily, watching him eat and pass pieces over to the cat.

"Snooped through your mail of course." she pointed out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You never told me you went to Degrassi. I mean, Toronto, yeah, but never any more specific." Marco swallowed noisily and poked at the shrimp in the box, looking for an excuse not to make eye contact. He hated these conversations.

"Anne...not tonight."

The bored looking woman snorted and started undoing all the clasps on her boots as she rolled her eyes up at him. "As if you would talk about it in the first place. Lord knows I've tried in the last five years." She finally got all the buckles open and she tugged the shoes off before she crawled around him, lying on the unoccupied side of the bed. "But I won't question you," she muttered shrugging out of her jeans as she spoke. "Do you mind if I stay tonight? It's rent day tomorrow."

Marco nodded even though she couldn't see him as his back was turned her way and gave the last bite of food to Tully before getting up to throw the box away. On the way back over he hastily discarded his shirt and pants, grabbing a pair of very old, black pajama bottoms from the chest of drawers in the far corner, hopping like an idiot to get into them before he came to lie down next to what he considered his best friend.

Tully crawled over him, claws digging into his bare back, and settled between the two of them like a small child and curling up to the planes of his stomach for warmth. Anne sat up briefly to kiss his forehead before she flipped onto her other side, leaving Marco to stare at her back and try to get back to sleep.

He sighed. Anne had to be the closest thing to a family he had anymore. His rather erratic lifestyle didn't leave much time for friends. After moving from Degrassi he had been in a myriad of different places and different jobs. First was the janitor gig at the night club in London. That was when he decided that it would perhaps be easier to leave Canada altogether. Next was the waiter position in Syracuse. Convenience store in Albany. Waiter again in Hartide. Now...now the post office in New York City. Yes, his life wasn't exactly a basket of roses, but really, it never had been in the first place, which was why he had left.

Marco burrowed further into his pillow, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. Going back tonight had been such a stupid thing to do, he mused in frustration. What had he thought he would find there? Ellie? A home? He had things here...Anne, a different atmosphere. He didn't have money. He didn't have love, but at least he didn't have as many memories to weigh him down.

"What would you know, Marco? Huh! You have no idea! And you definitely have no right to tell me how to handle this situation or my life in general!"

Tully climbed up his arm, curling into a ball under his chin, soaking up the warmth and giving it all at once as if he had heard the phantom voices in his head and was offering comfort.

Dylan had been there, he thought. Dear God that had been the shock of his piss poor existence. What a picture he must have made with his thin, ragged clothes and stringy hair and a body made of nothing but bones. He must have looked like the proverbial scarecrow with its awkwardly sewed together parts and straw hair. And there Dylan had been with his statuesque figure and perfect smile and perfect eyes...so very untouched from the past. So blessedly naive. That had been a shock too. Was he the only one who had known? Was he the only one who cared?

From down the hall a glass broke and Marco jumped, scaring the cat lying on his collarbone. He shook his head, mad at himself for even letting all of this get to him. It was all in the past...where it belonged, and where it should stay.

A shift on the bed signalled Anne turning over and seconds later a gentle hand wrapped around his waist and deep breathing ghosted across his shoulder. Marco smiled softly, cursing the snow outside, and pulled Anne closer, finally giving into the leaden feeling in his limbs and eyelids, nodding off within seconds to leave his troubling thoughts behind.

He dreamed of red hair and smudged eyeliner.

Please review. I'm nervous as hell about this one. And remember...I have another chapter waiting. :)

Melissa- thank you SO very much for your help. It was...indespensible, and I owe you greatly for helping me out with my baby like this even though you're SO very busy. Thank you.