Author's Note: Hi everyone! :D I would first of all like to thank bubblyanddramatic and Peace and Purity for reviewing my story! You guys are awesome :D Haha but as promised, here's the second chapter to Tears And Rain! I hope you guys like it! It's rather short, so for that I apologize :P
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Tears And Rain
Memories
"I'll just pop in and give it to her and be back before they even get here. No problem."
Big problem. A big, big, very dinosaur-type big problem. Marco could remember just waiting there with their families, awkward beyond belief while the minutes turned into hours as they ticked by. Yet still no sign of Dylan.
Marco shuddered, and not because of the cold rain running down his back. He remembered the panic working its way to his throat, forming a lump and making his chest close painfully. Dylan would never dillydally when Marco was under this much stress. Never.
The Italian refused to look at the grave, praying to God that he was not at the cemetery, but just stupidly in his back yard. That thought kept replaying in his head until he almost convinced himself he was. He even expected Dylan to come storming outside, demanding that he go back into the house before he got sick and threatening to carry him there if he had to.
The sorrowful, dark haired boy almost smiled at this, knowing it would be very true. But sadly, he wasn't in his backyard. Dylan wasn't coming out to get him anymore.
Marco sobbed into his hands, wanting nothing more than to just leave this place and cry in the comfort of his own home. But there was something he needed to do before he went on his way, because he didn't think he'd have the strength to do this again.
He reached for the plastic bag beside him, his fingers fumbling and shaking as he tried to undo the knot he tied out of the handles. So he just ended up tearing it open out of pure frustration, and took out an object. He forced himself to look back at Dylan's grave and he took a deep breath. "R-remember this, Dyl?" A sad looking stuffed bumble bee slumped in Marco's stiff fingers. "Remember how you w-won this for me on our second date? You knew I was terrified of them," the Italian smiled a heartbreaking smile. "So you won it for me anyway at the fair. You thought it was funny, even when I whacked you over the head repeatedly with it. But I loved it. I never admitted to it mind you, but it was always in my room, in plain sight. I wonder if you knew that." He laid the stuffed animal in the grime, watching it almost frown at him at the unsanitary conditions of his new resting place. He mouthed a 'sorry' to it before tearing his eyes away.
"You must've," Marco continued after a few minutes of silence. "I mean, you knew everything about me. You knew more about me than I think I did. You knew just how to make me laugh when I was down or make me blush. You always said the right things at the right times and you always showed me how much you loved me. I...I just wish you were still here, Dyl. I want that more than anything I've ever wanted. I just...I love you so much it hurts," Marco somehow got out, wiping at his eyes though it didn't really stop the flow. Or the rain.
"This p-picture?" Marco stammered out, shakily reaching into the plastic bag and removing a worn and loved photograph. "This one was alw-ways m-my favourite." It was a picture of the two walking. Marco and Dylan were holding hands, smiling softly as each other as rows and rows of grass and flowers surrounded them. The love they shared was evident in their eyes, regarding the other with an almost stunned fascination. They had never truly grasped the concept of how the other could love them so deeply, but they knew they did. It was hard to deny it with a picture like this.
Marco placed it next to the now battered bumble bee with almost delicate and loving care. He fiddled with it, making sure it looked just right before finally letting it go. And it pained him to do so. This was a picture he had cherished above every other one because it spelled out their relationship in black and white. Their relationship was simple, yet beautiful and lovely. Nothing could ever break them apart. Even death.
"Excuse me for a second," Mr. Michalchuk announced after idle chit chat had taken place in the living room, for his phone was going off. "Hello?" his voice trailed off as he exited into the dining room for a little more privacy, but Marco could hardly care less. This dinner was turning out to be a disaster.
Where in the devil was Dylan?
"Oh my God," Mr. Michalchuk breathed out, yet it was powerful and loud enough for both entire families to go deadly silent. "You're...you're absolutely sure?" There was silence before broken and distorted sobs echoed throughout the house as well as a very audible thump.
Everybody tensed before shooting out of their chairs and crowded around the fallen Mr. Michalchuk, Marco, Mrs. Michalchuk, and Paige in the lead.
"What? What is it?" Mrs. Michalchuk demanded urgently, having eyes for no one but her husband. Marco was too terrified to breathe, every thought turning to Dylan being in every worst scenario his brain could come up with.
Mr. Michalchuk was sobbing so deeply that it racked through his entire body. "D-Dylan was h-hit. He was d-dead at the s-scene. Our son was killed! Our SON!"
And that was when Marco passed out.
Marco covered his ears like it would help block out the sound of his fiancé's dad declaring his death. He had never had flashbacks this bad since it happened. It felt so real, like Dylan had just died all over again. Shut up, shut up, shut UP! Marco's mind screamed, squeezing his eyes shut. Why did he have to be continually tortured by this? Wasn't living through it once enough?
Apparently not, seeing as no matter where he went, the shadow of Dylan's death followed him.