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!