Title: Forget Me Not
Author: Seasonal Dreamer
Rating: T(mostly, for now, to be safe :P)
Author's Note: Okay, so just a warning, there is some slight language in here...just watch out haha I felt like that needed to be said :P And p.s., I'm probably going to be even more speedy on this story then the first, which altogether I found pretty quick :P, because I basically have the entire story planned out, I just have to do a bit of editing here and there :P I got the idea in the middle of the first one so I was kinda juggling two stories at once haha :P Just wanted to let you guys know so you won't think I was some sort of speed demon haha :P
ellielovesdtng: Thank you so much for the review! :D I'm glad you like it so far :) But it's only the beginning so hopefully it'll get better :D
Read and review! They make me happy :)
It had been months.
Not just days. Not just weeks. Months.
And Marco was hurting. Badly.
Marco could drive now, but he didn't go down to Dylan's or anything like that. Marco had long ago stopped calling him or bothered asking Ryan anything about him.
And despite all his better judgments, Marco did continue to talk to Tim. Even now, he found himself remembering those countless conversations they had had since then.
"I don't know what to do anymore," Marco had finally confessed one time after several minutes of small talk, not sure if he was angry or sad anymore. He just felt numb.
Tim's green eyes looked at Marco like he was some rare gem. A rare gem, that someone else(technically) already owned. "This isn't fair, and you know it's not. He doesn't have the right to ignore you like that. I know I wouldn't."
Marco had chosen to ignore this. "I just...I can't even form words..."
"Is it...is it really better to hang on when you know he might not feel the same way?" Tim whispered, more to himself then the distraught boy in front of him after a few moments of silence. "Isn't it just cleaner to leave now?"
If you had overheard this conversation, you could've taken it one of two ways. Tim could've simply been talking about his relationship with Marco, or lack thereof, but Marco took it to mean about him and Dylan. And he couldn't help but think he was right.
Was it really better to hang on then to let go?
Marco walked sadly to the park, mulling this thought over in his head. He fell on to the bench he and Dylan had always sat on, not caring about his surroundings. Was nothing going to stop reminding him of him?
Tim was going to be meeting him there. They had become just as good friends as they had been before they had their fall out. Tim was a great listener, which was exactly what Marco needed right now. Not a talker like Ellie or Paige. Just a listener, because he had a lot to say.
A shadow crossed his own and he looked up unsurprisingly into a pair of green eyes. A strange thought crossed his mind. He felt no flutter in the stomach like he did when he looked into Dylan's blue eyes. No blush felt like it would form, no light shined from his face when he looked into Tim's, yet he knew that if he had never met the blonde hockey player he could've very well fallen in love with the younger boy. With more time than it took for Dylan, anyway, but the point was he could. They were very similar, and Marco felt comfortable with him. Yet he had met his true love already, and anything other than him just wouldn't cut it.
So it hurt to know that Dylan might have moved on.
"Hey," Tim smiled a timid smile. He used to use this as a way of gauging what kind of mood Marco was in, but now he knew that it was always the same one. Always the same, heartbreakingly sad one. It was just a reaction now, that tentative smile. It helped hide how much it was killing him to see Marco this way.
"Hey." Marco, for once, didn't know what else to say.
Tim sat next to him in silence, feeling his heart do a loop de loop in his chest. He wondered if Marco ever felt this way around him too, but he quickly pushed that out of his mind. Now was not the time.
But right now, Marco just needed his company. Talking just didn't seem like an option today, but having Tim sit loyally beside him made him feel, other than the obvious reason, better then he think anyone else could. The green eyed boy never left his side, never felt awkward and decide to leave, never started talking when Marco plainly wanted nothing then just his presence. And if that was all Marco needed from him, then dammit he'd give it, because for a while at least he felt wanted by this boy. Even if it wasn't exactly in the way he wanted.
Marco and Tim sat there for hours, just watching the people who passed by and the trees. Just watched them as the continued on with their lives. Marco often would see these happy, smiley people and wonder what their story was. Who loved them? How many woke up to the one they loved every day? How many knew what he was going through? How many had it worse off?
So many questions...yet so few answers.
That seemed to be the basis of his life.
Dylan Michalchuk sighed, leaning back against his pillow in relief. Finally, he had time to relax. University had been getting extremely stressful since he left Marco. Extreme guilt suddenly swirled around in his stomach.
Ah.
Marco.
He rolled over on to his side and stared at a framed picture of the younger boy and himself smiling stupidly at the camera at his Prom. Dylan felt horrible and insanely lonely, because he hadn't had a single conversation with his boyfriend since he came back. And that was months ago. And...it was completely his fault.
He just didn't think University would be so hard! Or time consuming. And that was just the academic portion of it. The social one was almost just as demanding. He wanted to have the full 'University experience,' with a few exceptions, so that meant alone time was pretty much non-existent. Oh god, what Marco must think, Dylan inwardly groaned. For all he knew, Marco could be thinking he was cheating on him. Panic took him then. That was exactly what Dylan had wanted to avoid!
He reached for the phone, hoping his guilty conscience would be put at ease once he talked to Marco. The older boy dialed the number.
Marco was lying in bed, his right leg propped on his left, foot jiggling as he read a particularly interesting book. It was the only thing that could almost distract him nowadays. His cell phone started ringing and he reached for it, not tearing his eyes away from his page.
"Marco del Rossi's phone," he greeted easily, not having the faintest idea who was on the other end.
"Marco?"
The Italian boy's heart stopped, his eyes going huge. He dropped his book on the floor as he sat up. "Dylan?" Marco said in a very disbelieving and slightly angry voice.
"Hey honey," Dylan smiled.
Marco's nostrils flared. "Oh, so you do know I exist?" he snorted.
Dylan looked ashamedly at the ground. "I'm sorry, Marco. University's just a lot more...demanding then I expected."
"Really." Marco's voice was hard, unforgiving. And worst of all, it was hurt.
Dylan's voice became urgent now. "Marco, I'm so sorry. I should've called more often-"
"More often?" Marco almost shouted incredulously. "Dylan you barely called once. What, was it too much of a hassle to keep in contact with me?" Marco snapped. "Was I too much of a burden or something? It's been months, Dylan."
"No! No, Marco you're not!" Dylan rushed to get his words out. "And I'm sorry! I didn't mean to ignore you, it got all crazy with the work and...and everything else -" Even he could hear how guilty he sounded saying that last line. Great.
Marco sighed heavily. "Just stop, Dylan, you don't need to explain."
Dylan wasn't sure whether to be relieved or more worried. Marco's voice hadn't been exactly kind. "I-I don't?" he asked.
"No, I get it. You're in University now, things have changed." Marco's voice broke slightly as he said this. He laughed without a trace of humour. "I mean, who were we kidding, right? Us? Staying together while you were living it up in Toronto? In University?"
"No, wait-" Dylan said frantically, realizing what he was implying.
"Seriously. I get it. Don't let me hold you back or anything. Have fun in University, Michalchuk." There was a click as Marco hung up.
The Italian boy stared at the wall in front of him, slightly dazed at what he'd just done. And finally, the pain of the last couple months finally caught up to him, and he started crying into his arms. Goodbye Dylan, Marco thought as tears poured down his face.
Dylan's mouth was gaping open, phone still held up to his ear in shock. "No," Dylan mumbled, refusing to believe it. "No, that didn't happen." He redialed Marco's cell number, waiting. But he got sent straight to voicemail. "No..." He tried again, and again, and again, but still no answer. "No, no, no! Pick up god dammit!" He screamed as he chucked the phone forcefully into the wall before he broke down completely into his hands.
"Why!" he sobbed. "Why didn't I call him? Why didn't I visit him? What the hell is wrong with me?" His heart was breaking. Marco thought Dylan had moved on. He thought Dylan didn't love him anymore.
He needed to let Marco know the truth. Dylan gingerly slid off the bed and picked up his phone and found it all broken apart. Alarmed, Dylan picked up the pieces and attempted to put it back together, but it was no use; his phone was destroyed.
Dylan let out a shout of fury and pounded his fist once against the wall. Where the hell was Ryan when he needed him?
The older boy burst through the dorm room's front door, searching furiously for his roommate. Dylan sprinted through the hallways and into the campus, not answering anyone when they shouted out 'hellos' or his name. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity to Dylan, he spotted his lanky friend purchasing a coffee from a small, outdoors coffee stand. For some reason this infuriated Dylan. He was buying a coffee when he had spent probably hours looking for him?
Dylan ran over to him and grabbed Ryan by the collar of his shirt. Ryan yelped in surprise and whirled around to face an extremely agitated best friend. "Oh, hey Dyl," Ryan greeted, raising an eyebrow at Dylan's expression.
"Where's your phone?" he demanded.
"Uh, where's yours?" Ryan answered, smirking slightly. He didn't notice the seriousness of his friend's tone.
Dylan grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him so they were almost nose to nose. Ryan looked shockingly into Dylan's blazing eyes. "Your phone. Now," he growled, shoving Ryan away from him slightly.
Ryan thought it was best not to argue and dug out his phone from his back pocket, his bewildered eyes never leaving Dylan's face. "Here."
Dylan snatched it and punched in Marco's number, walking swiftly away from Ryan and anyone else near them. His friend decided not to ask where he was going with his phone; he'd get it back eventually when Dylan had cooled down.
The elder boy's heart sank heavily when he got sent to voicemail too. Only this time, he left one. "Marco? Listen, before you hang up and delete the voicemail, please hear me out." He took a deep breath. "I know you hate me right now, and you have every right to. I was a jerk. A stupid, careless jerk. But that doesn't mean I stopped loving you!" He paused. "Please, don't be mad at me. I can't stand it. Just...call me back, okay?"
Sighing, Dylan pressed the 'end' button.
And waited.
Marco had been well aware that Dylan had tried calling back several times, once(he assumed it was Dylan...he wasn't stupid) using Ryan's phone. But he ignored him. It hurt more than anything he'd ever felt, but he couldn't get the disturbing thought that Dylan might've cheated on him or completely forgotten about him for months out of his mind. After all they'd been through together...he just couldn't handle it.
He spent hours up in his room. Marco kept glancing at his phone; he knew he had a voicemail, no doubt from Dylan, and he knew he should delete it right away. But he was dying inside to hear it, mostly due to the curiosity.
He was biting his lip so hard it started bleeding. Eventually groaning in frustration, he gave in and picked it up. The annoying, monotone lady started speaking and he was tempted to shout at her to get to hurry up. And to try talking with some emotion for once.
"You have...one...new voice message. You have...two...saved voice messages. First message."
Finally!
"Marco?" It was Dylan's voice. He was tempted to erase it right then and there, still full of hurt and anger before he heard Dylan continue quickly, "Listen, before you hang up and delete the voicemail, please hear me out."
Wow, was he really that predictable?
"I know you hate me right now, and you have every right to. I was a jerk. A stupid, careless jerk. But that doesn't mean I stopped loving you!"
There was a pause.
"Please, don't be mad at me. I can't stand it. Just...call me back, okay?"
The boring, robotic lady came back and said, "End of new messages. To erase this message, press seven. To send a reply message press eight. To save it press nine. To hear more options press four."
Marco went back to biting his lip, tears stinging his eyes before he pressed number seven. He didn't want to hear Dylan's excuses or his lies. The fact of the matter was, Marco obviously hadn't been important enough to Dylan for him to completely ignore him for months.
Rage suddenly replaced sorrow and he grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be his pillow, and chucked it at the wall. He jumped out of his bed and found anything and everything that he knew he couldn't break and hurled it everywhere in fury; it would only make him more angry if he had to pick up broken pieces of glass or something he actually liked and broke by mistake. He shouted stormily at the top of his lungs, cursing Dylan as he made a mess of the room they had once shared. Why was it that Dylan meant everything to him, but now Marco wasn't even worth a phone call?
He flopped on his bed face down in remorse and cried some more, weakly hitting the mattress as the tears poured out. "Why did you do this to me, Dylan?" He murmured. "When did everything change?"
"You messed up bad, Dyl," Ryan muttered, patting his friend's shoulder. He didn't want to chew him out for not calling Marco(Dylan was feeling bad enough as it is), but it was hard. Ryan thought that treating your boyfriend or girlfriend like some plague for months at a time was definitely a no-no. Which was why he had kept up constant contact with his girlfriend Keely. He didn't have the faintest idea why Dylan didn't do the same with Marco. Sure, they didn't exactly have the same classes so the work load was different, but still.
"I know," Dylan sniffed, wiping at his red and puffy eyes. "I d-don't even know what...why...
"To be honest, man, I don't know what the hell was up with you either," Ryan agreed, taking the hint of his friend's unfinished sentence. He never was one for tact. So much for not chewing him out. "I mean, what did you expect him to think when you ignore him like that? Fuck, I'd be pissed."
Dylan cringed into his pillow. "I'm s-such an idiot! I d-don't know, I got c-caught up with all th-the work and I guess the fr-freedom that I just..." He started weeping harder.
Ryan's arm on his back froze for a second, remembering all those nights he'd spent out extremely late. "Dylan...you didn't cheat on him did you?"
Dylan looked up from his pillow slightly in shock. "No! I didn't ch-cheat, but that won't s-stop Marco from pro-bably thinking I did!"
"Talk to him, Dylan. Just try explaining yourself." Ryan suggested. He really didn't know what to tell him other then he screwed up big time. "He might understand."
"I h-hope so," he whimpered. Ryan left him alone in his room to internally beat himself up for what he had carelessly thrown away. Marco, I love you. I always have and I always will. Please...please forgive me! I didn't know...I just...I didn't know.
That was no excuse, though. What seemed perfectly obvious to everyone else had eluded him. Surely it was just common sense that you needed to talk to your boyfriend at least once in your lifetime. But he just...he had no reason. No reason at all except that it was just one of those things where time flew by so fast because there was so much he had to do that before he knew it...
He was single.
No, Dylan growled. He was not single. He was taken. Taken by Marco, the boy he loved to no end. The younger boy couldn't just decide to break it off himself...isn't there a law against that? Dylan felt there should be, at least for him. Just to save him from this heart ache.
The next day Marco showed up to school looking disheveled, exhausted, and depressed. It took mere minutes to destroy his room, but hours to clean it back up. He barely slept and had huge dark circles under his eyes. Paige had been on the phone in her room the other night with a very distraught older brother after she comforted an equally as depressed Marco.
"How could you not call him, Dylan?" she had demanded into the phone as soon as she picked it up. "How could you not visit him! He waited for hours for you to call by the phone! Do you know how heartbreaking it was to see Marco's face fall when he realized you weren't going to call that day? What if Marco was in danger and you never picked up? What would you do then, huh? You live half an hour away in Toronto, how hard is it to-" She stopped her scolding abruptly when she heard Dylan bawling on the other side of the line.
Paige paused, sympathy working its way into her voice. "Hey, Dylan I didn't mean to make you-"
"Y-You didn't, Paige. Th-This is all my fault." Dylan had been cowering in his room, feeling empty. His blinds were closed and his room was comfortingly dark. "I d-didn't know how m-much I was hurting him. If I knew I w-wouldn't have kept it up! I was so ob-livious...Paige I barely noticed w-when he stopped calling!"
"How could you not notice when Marco didn't call you?" Paige had asked suspiciously.
Dylan knew what she was implying. "I w-wouldn't dare cheat on him, Paige. You kn-know that. The w-work here was just so stressful and I g-guess I was just s-so excited about the fact that I could b-be independent without falling f-flat on my face that I...I just...Paige help me, pl-ease."
They talked like that for a long while, him pleading with her on what he should do.
Now, Paige was squeezing Marco's hand gently as they parted ways to go to their lockers. The Italian boy hadn't said a single word all morning, and it was scaring Paige. At least before he had kept up a, granted small, conversation with her, but now...now he was deadly silent.
Ellie knew something was wrong. Marco had been sad before, but now he seemed downright depressed. And all her suspicions pointed to one person. Dylan.
If he had hurt her best friend anymore then he already did, she was seriously going to kill him. She sighed and walked through Degrassi's front doors, spotting Marco instantly. He stuck out like a sore thumb, even though she knew he'd rather just blend into the crowd.
And despite the damage to her reputation, Ellie stepped forward and hugged Marco tightly in front of the entire school, ignoring his slightly surprised expression, and the rest of the school's extremely surprised expression. So sue her if she wasn't exactly the most touchy-feely person in the entire universe.
She ducked her head into his shoulder, whispering into his shirt,
"Did you know you have the saddest sad face in the world?"
Dylan felt like he had nothing left. Nothing left to live for. He was sure Marco hated him. As soon as he had gotten a new phone, he called him every chance he got. And Marco never once answered.
Ryan walked into their room quietly and sat next to him. "This isn't healthy Dylan," Ryan whispered gently. "You need to work this out or you're going to go crazy."
"He hates me, Ryan," Dylan muttered as more tears fell. "I don't know what I can say to make him feel better. I was such as asshole." He looked at Ryan with watery eyes. "All I know is that I want him back, Ryan. I want him back more than anything...but I don't know when I can talk to him! He won't answer my calls or messages, and I don't know how I'll be able to get time off to go see him..."
"Hey, don't we have a long weekend coming up in a few weeks?" Ryan asked. "I think it's one of those five day things too. Go see him then, you'll have plenty of time to win del Rossi back."
Dylan nodded as Ryan left him alone. Waiting for it to come, though, was going to be hell.
Dylan didn't know how he could ever explain this to Ryan, but he felt like he had lost so much more than just a boyfriend. He had lost his life, and himself. The blonde was alive with nothing to live for. That was probably a good way to describe it. Everything reminded him of the younger boy. The breeze even carried whispers of him, past conversations coming back to haunt him. A psychiatrist would declare him insane if they had heard him thinking like this, but...he found he didn't care.
Lock him up. Experiment on him. Do whatever they want to him, he wouldn't care. All he wanted was his Marco back. An empty shiver ran down his spine as he sat in his own seclusion, no longer emitting energy or happiness like Marco had once thought, but rather leaking out dangerous feelings of sorrow. Of guilt. Because it wasn't like some freak thing had happened to pull them apart. It was him.
It was his fault.
There had been warning signs, but he had been far too selfish to see them clearly. The shades never got drawn up anymore, because the cruel irony of the sun warming him and twinkling at him just made him hurt more. He had had his own sun to wake up to, and this poor imitation of the happiness and warmth he felt when he looked at it was sad to say the least.
Music, now, was his only comfort. It had always been so important to Marco, and now it had become more like a life-style then a hobby. And there was one song that always played in his mind, no matter how much he had tried to drown it out. A song that had been written for him.
He couldn't wait to see him again.
