Title: Forget Me Not
Author: Seasonal Dreamer
Rating: T (mostly, for now, to be safe :P)
The Italian boy heard the faint footsteps walking cautiously towards him, and he got up into a crouch, ready to spring out of there at any moment. Marco carefully peered around the desk's corner, hoping with all his might that the intruder wouldn't see him…
Suddenly his vision went blurry and it flashed to himself creeping around a corner to find the staircase. Sighing with relief he lightly hopped down it and ran through the corridor; the front doors weren't too far away!
Suddenly he heard loud and heavy footsteps thundering down the stairwell. Marco heart ceased beating for a few seconds before he tore down the hallway and rounded the corner, not caring that he probably heard his feet crashing on the tiles. If he hadn't ran as fast as he did, the intruder would've caught him anyway.
"HEY!" The man bellowed and Marco heard his feet quicken too. Almost there...
Extremely rough, and large hands grabbed him from behind. The hooded man threw his arm around Marco's neck, remotely constricting his airways, while the other bent his arm behind him. "There you are," the man hissed in his ear.
Marco was jolted awake as his body hit the floor, crying out in shock. He swung his head around as if expecting the guy to be standing over him. He took a deep breath and tried to still his shaking as he got back in his bed. He was really getting tired of this.
Normally, he'd have talked to Dylan about it, but after weeks of rejection, he highly doubted that Dylan really wanted to hear it. Marco contemplated calling Ellie (even though it felt like he just left her house), since she was good at keeping a secret and the only one besides Dylan, really, that knew. Paige, being the loud mouth that she was, was only on a need-to-know basis with stuff like this; he really didn't need Marco-is-weirder-then-we-thought rumours flying around Degrassi. It was hard enough being gay.
However, he knew Ellie well enough to know that to say that she'd be miffed if he called her this early would be an understatement. Sighing, Marco unhappily sat on the edge of his bed and wondered what Dylan was doing right now. Though, at the moment, instead of depressed, he was furious.
Why has he been ignoring me? Do I not deserve an explanation? The anger that he felt made him too hyper to stay sitting. For all I know he could be messing around with some other guy and not have the guts to tell me. Jerk.
He wanted to hit something.
Marco still talked to Ryan a lot, however, and quizzed him constantly about why Dylan wasn't calling but Ryan had come up blank. He had promised to pass on the message, but he really wasn't too comfortable getting in the middle of a fight between two of his best friends.
Frustrated, Marco signed on to 'Live Messenger'. Sure, almost everyone else used 'Facebook' and 'MySpace,' but Marco just didn't see the point in letting people know what he was doing and what other people were doing all the time. That, and all the games and quizzes that were on there that he personally just found stupid. He only ever needed to use the chat anyway, and made all his friends get one even if he was the only person they'd ever talk to on it.
He happily saw that Ryan was online, and started talking to him.
delStudly101: heyy ryan, what're you doing up so early?
EpicPopsiclez: MARCO!
EpicPopsiclez: buddyyyy what's upppppppppp?
delStudly101: ...
delStudly101: dude, what's with the name?
EpicPopsiclez: *grins* what?
EpicPopsiclez: you don't like it?
delStudly101: it's very original...
EpicPopsiclez: shut uppp.
EpicPopsiclez: maybe i should change it to '..sucks.'
delStudly101: oh, i don't know, i kinda liked you're 'assmonkey' one...it suits you better
EpicPopsiclez: touché.
EpicPopsiclez: why don't i just change it to '..' and leave it at that?
Marco laughed. Sensing that he and Ryan seemed to be in for the long run tonight, he quickly snuck down stairs to grab a highly-caffeinated pop before answering back.
delStudly101: so, ry, what are you doing up?
EpicPopsiclez: whoa, whoa, whoa, stop right there del rossi.
EpicPopsiclez: first of all, my name's ryan.
EpicPopsiclez: not 'rye.'
EpicPopsiclez: i am not a type of bread.
delStudly101: *laughs* sorry RYAN, didn't mean to offend. I'm kinda like over-tired here and running on maybe five minutes of sleep so my typing's going to be a little lazyyy
EpicPopsiclez: ah. no problemo signore. we've all been there before
EpicPopsiclez: and second, ican't sleep either
EpicPopsiclez: when you shipped your boyfriend off to live with me you forgot to mention that he can out-snore a motorcyle without a muffler when he wants to.
EpicPopsiclez: one just passed by and if it wasn't for the window in front of me i would've never known.
Marco's breath caught angrily and he didn't answer for a little while. So Dylan can sleep all fine and dandy while I'm sitting here, slowly becoming an insomniac. .tic
EpicPopsiclez: uh, marco?
EpicPopsiclez: this is where we laugh and make fun of dylan? like old times? dude, don't skimp out on me here, this is my favourite part.
But Marco barely noticed Ryan had responded. He was seeing red. The minutes ticked by.
EpicPopsiclez: marco i know you're there, you're too curious not to be, so either i said something to tick you off or something's buggin' ya and i wanna know
delStudly101: so michalchuk's sound asleep is he? that's great. that's realllllll great.
EpicPopsiclez: oh. i see now. the big lug still hasn't called you yet?
delStudly101: no. answer me one thing ryan. is he cheating on me?
EpicPopsiclez: what?
EpicPopsiclez: dude, if he was i'd kick his ass.
EpicPopsiclez: no, i dunno what his problem is, but he hasn't been cheating on you del rossi.
But Marco couldn't trust Ryan on this. He was Dylan's friend first, for all he knew Ryan was covering for him. Or Ryan just hadn't seen him in the act.
delStudly101: unfortunately i'm not so sure.
delStudly101: i'm going to try to get to sleep before my eyes become permanently bloodshot. night ryan.
EpicPopsiclez: wait!
Marco quickly signed off, not giving Ryan a chance to protest further. He was positive he'd hear about it later; Ryan was famous for the angry text messages. But he could deal with that. He just really didn't want to talk to anyone right then.
You're in trouble.
That was the text that greeted Marco the next morning. And, of course, it was from Ryan.
The lanky boy hated, no, loathed when people shut him out so he expected to get chewed out later. Though, since Ryan had confessed to him a while ago that he always felt guilty yelling at him, he felt that he was in a better place than most.
Which explained the text that was apparently sent two minutes afterwards.
Urghhhhh.
Just...forget it.
I'm here if you need to talk...
Not that you're going to have much of a choice, because I'm calling or messaging you later del Rossi, and if you don't answer, guilty or not I will go all 'Mr. T' on you and kick your butt.
I mean that in the friendliest way possible.
Marco inwardly wondered why his grammar was so much better when he texted than IMed. Shrugging, he put his phone away and glanced at the daunting pile of unfinished homework on his desk. He'd fallen so far behind, but he just couldn't find the energy to care anymore. Marco only did what little he and Paige could on Sundays and no more than that. The only way he'd managed to keep from failing his classes were the fact that he got one-hundreds on every test and quiz. The teachers didn't understand it, but then again, what do they know?
Marco finished getting dressed and shoved papers and notebooks into his bag. When he got downstairs, Paige gave him a sleepy smile as she held a steaming cup of coffee. Marco needed caffeine. Badly.
Marco didn't say a word as he poured himself a cup.
"'Morning Marco, how'd you sleep?"
"Fine," he lied.
Paige's eyes took in those dark circles but she didn't say anything again, which was so unlike her. Marco, snap out of it, please, she inwardly begged. Paige, too, had tried to contact Dylan, but he seemed to be ignoring her too. Now we have a problem. You don't just ignore Paige Michalchuk. You know, unless you wanted to die.
Oh, he was so going to be in for it.
Marco and Paige walked to school, having bits and pieces of a conversation, but nothing like it used to be. Nowadays they, more often than not, would collapse into silence. It was strange for the both of them, since they had always been so loquacious, especially with each other. But now, Marco only really spoke when addressed directly. He never offered up his opinions or suggestions or initiated contact, and Paige wasn't used to talking to, for lack of a better word, a brick wall. One person can't just keep up a conversation with themselves.
Little did Paige know what Marco was silently brooding deep within the walls of his mind. Every little detail, every little flicker of the grass' blades to the butterflies landing softly on the ground reminded him of Dylan. He couldn't even explain it to himself, really, why this hurt him. The beauty should have been a comfort to him, as it normally would have been, but maybe that was the reason.
In so many ways, Dylan was beautiful. From his sparkling eyes to his glowing personality. He pretty much radiated energy, building his own forcefield specifically designed to draw Marco in. Like Dylan was the sun, his own personal ball of fire and energy, blinding him and shining so much it was almost painful, yet like the sun, he couldn't look away. All those good feelings, happiness, comfort, love...they were a packaged deal with the sun. And now, his light had disappeared, and Marco was standing in the dark, feebly waiting for dawn to come.
The school day went by in a blur, and before the brown eyed boy knew it he was at his locker again and packing his bag. Everyone had started to notice Marco's drastic change in attitude. Even one person who Marco hadn't thought of in a while.
He was unsuccessfully trying to remember what he had to take home, when the voice that belonged to that forgotten individual interrupted his thoughts.
"Marco."
The Italian boy froze, and turned around, not believing his eyes for a moment.
"Tim."
To say that Tim was pretty much unshakeable would be an understatement. Sure, he had been known to throw in the towel now and again, but most of the time he didn't know the definition of 'quit.'
Which was often the reason why people confused his 'determination' as 'desperation.' There really was a fine line between the two of them. The only difference is that when you're desperate, you're not quite 'all there.' So maybe Tim was desperate, in a way. Anyone who'd want to take on Dylan Michalchuk for his boyfriend had to have some screws lose, though he'd obviously tell you otherwise.
But he had been fairly good with them. He'd kept his distance for the better part of a year, and he was almost oddly proud of it. But he did watch them.
Creepy? Yeah, maybe. Fun? Not so much.
Would you enjoy watching someone you, more or less, loved and wanted to be with kiss and hold hands with someone you hated? Obviously if it made Marco truly happy, Tim would leave him be, but he wasn't too sure Dylan was the one who was right for him. Of course, he wasn't exactly an unbiased party, as he had a certain someone, namely himself, in mind who he thought would be much better for the Italian. But that was just him.
He had made a promise, though, that if Marco and Dylan's relationship stood now that the older of the two was in University, something he had threatened and warned both Marco and his boyfriend about, then he would honestly move on. Or try to, at least.
However, recently, Tim had noticed something rather...well, suspicious. Marco had been looking increasingly melancholy. At first, Tim had unhappily noted that it was probably due to the fact that Dylan had just left, but now he honestly seemed...well, despressed. It'd thrown him for some time, until he found out from-
(Paige.)
-someone, by over hearing their conversations, that Dylan hadn't kept in contact with him for a long time. And that the last time he visited, he acted like he didn't visit because he missed Marco, but because he felt obliged to it.
And Tim was pissed.
He'd have given anything to be the one Marco loved, but here was Dylan, so fortunate to be that person, and he was treating it like nothing.
Well, it looked like all bets were off the table now.
"Tim," Marco greeted with a tiny trace of hostility. Really, this was probably the last thing he needed right now.
"Do you want to grab a coffee with me? It's not a date," Tim hurriedly added, seeing Marco open his mouth to interrupt him. "I swear. You just look like you could use a pick-me-up right about now."
Marco considered this for a moment. This was, after all, both the Tim he had loved as a brother and the Tim who had tried to ruin his relationship with his boyfriend. But right now, the need for something caffeinated was too tempting to turn down. Was he becoming addicted to coffee? Quite possibly yes.
"Yeah, sure Tim," Marco nodded, throwing his last book into his backpack and shutting his locker door.
They walked to The Dot in silence that wasn't altogether uncomfortable, but both felt slightly awkward. After all, the last time they had talked Marco had more or less told Tim to get the hell out of his life. But then again it hadn't exactly been undeserved.
They sat down at a table in the back in hopes that no one they knew would see them and give them the third degree as to why all of the sudden they were speaking again, let alone having coffee with each other. Thankfully, Spinner(who now worked at The Dot) didn't have a shift today so they were free to order.
Once they were all settled with their coffees, Tim looked at Marco more closely. He looked thoroughly exhausted and miserable, though the hot drink seemed to be making him happy. Tim suddenly had a horrible flash back to when Marco hadn't been sleeping(though he never found out why), and he didn't like it at all.
"So, how've you been Tim?" Marco asked, his voice curious but his eyes wary.
"Pretty good," Tim lied. Truth was, he hadn't been good for a while.
However, Marco looked relieved. "That's good," Marco mused, going back to his slowly-becoming-famous distracted look.
"Alright, that's enough. Marco, what's the matter with you?" Tim demanded not unkindly.
Marco looked honestly surprised. "What?"
"What's making you so depressed? You've been like this for a while and people are starting to worry." By people, he mostly meant himself.
Marco raised an eyebrow. "What, is that the only reason you brought me here? To interrogate me?" He sipped his coffee and waited for an answer.
"You know that's not true, but you know, whatever. Now answer the question del Rossi." Tim gave him a poor imitation of a smile.
"Yes officer," Marco rolled his eyes. But his face dropped considerably as he looked down at his cup. "Dylan doesn't seem to want to talk to me. Have anything to do with me, really. I'm trying not to think about it," he smirked. "But obviously that's not working."
I knew it, was all Tim's enraged mind could make out. "That's stupid. Like really stupid. What's his problem anyway? Did you two get in a fight?"
Marco snorted. "Like it would be that simple. No, I have absolutely no idea what I could've done to offend him so much, but apparently it's something too horrible for words because it's been a good month and a bit since he last bothered to talk to me."
You see, the thing Marco appreciated about Tim was that he didn't look sorry for him. He looked just as Marco felt. Angry. Though minus the sad part.
"I always knew you were too good for him," Tim mumbled.
Marco gave him a powerful glare and growled, "Take that back."
Tim looked a little surprised at the venom in his voice, but said, bordering on harsh, "No. You are too good for him, I always knew that. And what he's doing right now just proves it."
"You don't know anything," Marco shot back almost instantly.
Tim raised an eyebrow and said flatly, "I know more than you think del Rossi. He could never be what you need."
Marco stood up angrily and made to leave, but Tim lightning fast grabbed on to his sleeve, his expression melting away into that of a pleading one. "Don't go. I'm sorry, that was mean. I just hate seeing you like this."
Regarding Tim like a trainer would watch a wild animal, Marco cautiously sat back down without a word. An uncomfortable silence settled down on them until Marco couldn't take it anymore. "Look, I know you don't like Dylan, but he's not a bad guy. If he was I wouldn't love him. He just...makes mistakes sometimes. But I know he loves me too. He's just...overwhelmed." It sounded a lot more like he was trying to convince himself then the green eyed boy in front of him.
Tim had winced slightly when Marco had said he loved Dylan, and the Italian suddenly felt a surge of guilt and sympathy run through him. He looked so vulnerable, like a single word could knock him over, and Marco felt a brotherly protectiveness come over him.
He saw Tim mutter something, but he didn't quite make it out. "What'd you say?"
"I said he's not the only one that loves you, you know," Tim said quietly, looking at Marco with intense eyes.
Marco's stomach knotted together and he looked down at the table. "Tim-"
"I know you don't see me that way, Marco." Tim interrupted. "And it hurts, sure. But it also hurts to see you this upset. So go. Figure things out with Dylan. I won't bother you, I swear to god I won't. But just know I'll always be here for you whenever you need to talk." And with a sad smile, Tim patted Marco's shoulder and left the restaurant without a proper goodbye. Marco sat in his guilt and confusion as he turned slightly around to watch him go, both boys feeling like everything was still unsettled between them.
Okay, now please read and review! :D