Very very old one-shot. Crarco. Set in Moonlight Desires. Repost from livejournal.Cheers.
"Oh please tell me my head doesn't look that big!"
"It's the hair."
Dylan paused and threw him a dirty look over the Italian's shoulder before turning back to his boyfriend with a huge smile. "It looks great. You look great."
Great, Craig thought. Yeah. Dylan had always been the one to compliment him. Always "you look great" and "I love it when you smile" and "you're so darn cute." Whatever it happened to be that day. It's like with Marco's every movement there was a thing to say about it. Something positive. Craig had to hand it to him. The guy had guts to say what was on his mind so freely. It's not as if Craig could walk up to Marco, sling his arm around his shoulders and tell him he looked more beautiful than the dawn or some other cliche sap that you only here in a romance novel.
That stupid blonde idiot though, he had the whole seduction thing down pat. And him? Pssh. He could very clearly remember his days of Ashley and Manny. The roses, his stupid guitar strummed declarations. What did he ever give to them? Gifts? As if any person only wanted that from someone they loved.
Sometimes he'd like to think his inability to say it was because of his dad. Growing up being beaten one second and then smiled at the next, it'd be a bit hard to discern what the meaning of love really was. And for someone who had laughed during his own father's funeral nonetheless...well...if he was in love, he'd be the last to know it he was sure.
Which was such a tragedy really. Because he needed it, craved it, longed for that glowing feeling in his stomach that all the girls gushed on about in history class. He was man enough to admit that he wanted to wake up with somebody and play those sickeningly sweet love songs on his guitar and get that giddy rush each and every time the girl smiled at him.
And he absolutely loathed Dylan...because apparently that's exactly what he and Marco had. They had something great, beautiful, complete with stomach butterflies and melting knees. So why...why did Dylan all the sudden cheat on his friend? When they had i it /i why did he feel the need to go and ruin everything? Freedom isn't worth giving up love, he mused. Not ever. Craig remembered before he was diagnosed how he had gone crawling to Ashley on his knees nonetheless to have her back. Even for five minutes.
So how could that asshole do that to his friend? Marco had to be the most beautiful person he'd ever met. So kind, and loving, and gentle natured about everything. Everytime Craig was having love troubles, or was just overwhelmed by life in general, Marco had always been there to sit with him in the garage and just listen and help. He was good at helping, good at emotions in general. He was a very loving person.
And that's what Craig liked about him. Marco could love anyone...could know it, feel deep within his bones that it was true, and not run away from it at all. Because he saw love as a beautiful thing, a feeling to cherish and hold on to no matter how horrible the person in question might be. Something Craig didn't think he'd ever be able to do. Thinking of Spinner, the way he had cheated on Paige, ended Jimmy in the wheelchair...hurt people who he had never thought Spinner could hurt...and all he could think of was how that jerk had been with Manny. How he could have hurt someone he once thought he loved, whom he still cared for against all odds...he could only think of how Spinner might have hurt her too.
But Marco...Marco still stuck around Spinner. Even when he was hurting one of his best friends. Because that's what Marco did. When he thought it was right he wouldn't budge. No matter who might hate him in the end, he stuck by those he cared about. Craig himself on many many occasions.
Not to say Marco didn't tell you when you were being an idiot. Their song recording still stuck in his mind daily...and the way Marco had glared at him, been cold to him, that had been something entirely new, and Craig had hated it even when he knew he deserved it completely. But time went on and he soon found, that while Marco might have been peeved at him for that short while things fell back in place, he found that Marco had never stopped loving him. One night the Italian had even admitted that it was part of his charm. He was so clueless about everything, whether it hurt people or not, and it was difficult to stay mad at someone who had no clue they were being a moron in the first place. Endearing is what Marco had called it.
But Paige's brother obviously didn't get that. Didn't see that. And the blonde had pushed, and pushed. Now...Marco was acting completely out of character from what Craig was used to. Looking around a room of people for the best possible means of producing jealousy. Marco had never been one to purposefully hurt someone...to outstep his own self-placed "nice" boundaries. But here he was, walking up to a random boy and talking and smiling in a practiced way.
It made Craig sick to look at. To see the most wholesome person he knew almost whoring himself off...only to get the attention of someone who didn't want him anymore.
He deserved so much more, Craig thought. So very, very much more than what he was recieving from that two-timing bastard. He had learned his lesson ages ago. It's just...not possible to love two people at once, atleast not equally and sure as hell not fairly. And in the end all you get are two very mad and very upset significant others who want something from you that you just can't give.
Marco deserved it all. All from one person. All for the rest of his life. Because he was just worthy like that. He worked so hard since he was small to be as nice and fundamentally good as a single person could be, he wanted to be liked, he wanted to be loved. He just wanted to be the best person he possibly could. That's the only crime he ever committed.
And for once that was working against him. And he was changing to gain back what he had tried so hard to get. His one and only guilty pleasure and the one and only thing he didn't share. Dylan.
Craig thought...why Dylan? Dylan was never there for him. Never there when he was upset, never there when he was happy. Craig was. Craig and Jimmy and Ellie and Paige. They were there for him when he needed it most.
So why did Marco care so much?
Because of love, his mind threw out. Was Ashley ever there for him really? No. But did he stick around because of that feeling? Yes he did. But staring at Marco across the room, staring dumbfounded as the stranger he had spoke to seconds before walked off with a smile, Craig couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. Couldn't get rid of how i wrong /i this situation felt.
The Italian boy staggered over to him now, legs looking shaky and unable to support him, and like any other friend Crag slipped his arm around the smaller boy's waist and helped him walk out of the party and into the stairwell, setting him down before taking a seat beside him himself. For several minutes Marco said nothing, wrapping a small hand around one of the rungs in the stair's railing and staring off into oblivion.
Craig licked his lips thinking. The far off look on the other boy's face was evidence to leave well enough alone. But there was that feeling of i wrong /i again at the outright unhappiness there. It was all so apparent, whether it be in the chalk white of his knuckles as he clenched his hand too tightly, or the way he kept biting his lip self-conciously. He was a breathing ball of nerves and suddenly the thought of punching Dylan square in the nose sounded very appealing. The fluttering in his stomach quite agreed. But somehow Craig also knew that would make Marco's eyes look even more hurt. And he didn't want that.
Finally after what felt like ages Craig clapped his hands together, plastering on a smile in a last ditch attempt to make the smaller boy smile. Throwing caution to the wind he started to say things that he thought he'd never be able to. "You know, you are a great guy."
In response Marco's eyes turned to him for what felt like the first time in his life and Craig felt something jolt low in his stomach. Marco turned away, but Craig had caught the bashful smile and it made a smile creep up on his own face. Barely even thinking now, Craig barrelled on, desperate to get those eyes back on him, to keep them interested, to keep them hopeful.
"The most honest," he said, shaking a finger at the Italian to emphasize his point as much as to make him smile. "...down to earth, nicest person I know."
Craig was rewarded by the same bashful smile but Marco's eyes drifted away again for some unknown reason. Embarrassment, his numb and exhilarated brain put in. Once again clinging to that brown gaze Craig started spouted. Anything. "You're a little short..." he gabbled, only noticing too late the mistake he'd made, hurriedly jumping in to fix it with a cheezy grin.
"...but that just adds to the cuteness." And there we go. This time Marco's eyes averted yet again but a small breathy laugh escaped him and even in the dark Craig could make out the full blush spreading down his neck.
But suddenly foreign words started spilling from his lips. "...that I would find you...if...you were a girl. Or...I was...not a guy." He realized Marco was staring at him funny and Craig tried his hardest to stare forward even while his mouth continued to run away with him. "Is not gay," he babbled, using his hand to emphasize the fact.
Marco's face only grew more incredulous and Craig absent-mindedly wondered why he even cared so much to specify.
Finaly Craig gave up with his over enthusiastic protests and decided he should stop talking about himself for five seconds. He had gotten the boy to look at him now, but he needed to keep that smile around "Just tell me this is helping."
The smile grew more sincere as Marco finally turned around to meet his eyes for the first time. "You're telling me what I really want to hear," the smaller boy said, eyes twinkling and looking genuinely happy. Inside Craig privately cheered while his stomach continued fluttering like earlier. He'd have to pay better attention to what they were putting in the pop around here, he thought.
The smile started faltering and Craig almost felt like hitting the wall in frustration, only slapping one hand into the other instead, knowing he could never come up with a story good enough for why he randomly decided to punch something. But then the eyes were growing sadder as well and Craig almost decided it'd be worth it.
Craig tried to smile but he was sure it came out oddly. Then Marco spoke again, his voice low and angry. "If you want to help...tell me I'm an idiot," he trailed off, staring off to the side and away from his eyes.
A knot lodged itself in his throat and Craig honestly wondered what he had drank earlier. Attempting humor again, if only to get the Italian's attention Craig responded, "You're an idiot?" he said, tilting his words at the end to pose it as a question, unsure of what exactly Marco needed.
He hated that Marco didn't turn to face him when he responded. "I can't go downstairs."
The boy's voice cracked and he turned to him finally, his eyes truly upset. "I can't stay here! I can't talk to Dylan! What do I do?"
For blessed few seconds Craig stared at Marco and tried to formulate a response beyond that odd thing his stomach was doing, until that horrid voice rang through the air just as annoying and just as maddening as ever.
"Ma-a-a-arco?"
And before he could even comprehend two fragile hands grabbed him by the sides of his face and warm lips descended on his own. Over entirely too quickly for his liking and causing the knot in his throat to tighten painfully. The warm hands disappeared with the boy's lips, leaving him feeling cold and confused and completely windswept.
He barely took in the blonde behind them talking. Such a stupid guy really. But at the sound of footsteps he finally came to life.
"So when in doubt you kiss Craig!" he yelled, completely unhinged. Turning his head he could see Marco looking completely shell-shocked at his own actions and besides his own utter shock he felt utterly indignant.
"I-I guess I should go...settle this with Dylan," the smaller boy stuttered, still staring at the stairs as if trying to comprehend the circus his life had turned into.
Feeling his righteous anger building Craig continued on his tirade. "Yeah...you do! Y-you really really do!"
As the other boy shuffled off Craig turned back to the stairs and made a face at the air, trying to get over the fact that his best friend had just kissed him. His best friend who happened to be a guy. Oh God, he was going to be sick.
The party went on around him and after a good five minutes in the stairwell to calm himself down Craig went back out to join in the festivities. And to stare at as many female bodies as he possibly could. He was in dire need of some curves if he did say so himself. And he was staying away from that damn soda as well.
Finally starting to forget about the brilliant escapade earlier Craig leaned against a wall near the door and tried to clear his mind of the small bit of anger still swirling around in his head. Which really made no sense, he knew. Why be angry? So what if he had been a last ditch effort to make that crap excuse for a boyfriend of his mad. It's not like it should matter. He wasn't gay after all.
Craig's thoughts were cut short as the boy in question suddenly rounded the corner looking as if the world was about to shatter and fall down upon him in huge painful pieces. Marco brushed against him on the way out and Craig yet again damned the pop in this dorm for making his stomach so weird. But the butterflies disappeared in the blink of an eye when he watched his friend lean over the railing and let out body wracking sobs.
Suddenly the former fluttering in his stomach turned to molten steel and Craig spun on his heel, rushing down the hall to find Dylan and finally spotted him staring dazedly with his back against the wall. The fire in his stomach continued rising and before he could stop himself his fist was cocked back before punching the blonde full in the face.
Hand stinging and not waiting to see what else would happen Craig marched off back towards Marco, wrapping his arm securely around the boy's waist like earlier, made worse by the shudders still coursing down his spine. He drove Marco home, surprised at how quickly the boy stopped crying. If he was honest, Craig preferred the crying to this hollow gaze that had replaced them. It was like the all loving best friend he had known for so long was gone completely, leaving behind only this dead, and glassy eyed shadow.
Freeing a hand from the steering wheel Craig reached over and took one of Marco's slender hands, turning the palm up and holding it as tightly as possible without hurting him, willing to do anything to get that smile from earlier back. Clearing his throat loudly and ventured a smile. "You're still short you know."
And strangely enough Marco i did /i smile at that. He tipped his head back and laughed like he'd never done it before, tears springing up in his already wet eyes and head falling back on the seat. After several minutes he finally stopped, breathing heavily and still giggling every once in awhile. Calm enough now, Marco turned his head, still heavily pressed agains the seat and smiled sadly.
"I'm sorry for kissing you. I had no right to do that."
Craig felt himself smile hugely. "Eh, no worries. I can join Ellie in the I-Kissed-Marco club. There are badges and everything."
Marco's grin grew larger at that and he shook his head in amusement. "Like I would have a club of any kind."
Craig shook his head vehemently and swatted the other boy on the arm slightly, attempting to keep his eyes on the road when Marco kept looking at him like i that /i . And suddenly all those little compliments sat on his tongue and they didn't seem so scary anymore. He wondered why they had been in the first place. "You deserve a whole lot more than a fan club, Marco. Don't ever think differently," he whispered, turning his eyes back towards the road with a quick squeeze of the Italian's hand.
Nothing more was said for the rest of the ride and Craig supposed that was just fine. Marco understood his lack of words.
Craig had trouble saying I love you after all.
And Marco loved him for that.