I'm back. And a little early too. Any blame or thanking should go to the cute little girl who has me wrapped around her finger. D
Jade Danielle- Thanks dear. And you liked the knuckle popping? Completely random. Lol. But appreciated.
Yelak- Yes Dylan! Yay. And oh my gosh I love your reviews. I seriously light up like a freaking light bulb each and every time. Thanks hun.
LiquidRedSexGeniusInABottle- Oh please do hug it! He's a lonely story! Thank you so much for your reviews.
ReRe04- hope it continues to be amazing. ;)
Lucy- Oh darling. Thank you. I post because you would chew my ass off otherwise. D Be proud of yourself.
Lillei- Yeah, it does always seem to be Ellie doesn't it? I guess that's just because she's a really good stereotype to stick in there without people getting too upset. I'll have to write a story soon with a character no one suspects. Just to fix it. Thank you dear.
Melissa- There you go again with those damn good reviews that leave me floating for days later. It's really quite crazy…bobbing around the ceiling like that. You're spectacular love. No doubts about it.
Megaotaku- Ah, the errors. Well, one, any and all work on any of my stories is done between the hours of eleven to three a.m. Coherency is not something I value obviously. My beta works like a speed demon and also does all work at this hour. So she most certainly can't be blamed. And two, I just really don't mind errors. I write for pleasure and not for practice so it's just never bothered me. I am sorry however if it bothers you. I'm just lazy lol. But I'm very glad you like the story regardless.
Kayli- haha Maybe I'll add that quote just for you later or something. Lol. It does seem appropriate. Thanks dear.
Lanakael- You have GOT to stop giving me such amazing reviews. Honestly. I'm going to die at this rate. You just kill me.
OliverMacPherson – Ah, thank you very much. Hope you continue to enjoy it!
Alright, everyone, fasten your seatbelts. The language is still here too. More of it in fact. Woo. I'm such a sailor when I want to be. Lol
Marco awoke, not to the distant sound of police car sirens or shattering glass or even Anne's hair tickling his nose, but to the tinny, annoying chirp of a cell phone, which he knew should have been odd, seeing as how he didn't even have a normal phone. That in itself was enough to make his waking a most unpleasant one, but when he felt a shift in his bed, he almost screamed out loud.
Staying as still as possible, Marco allowed himself to open his eyes. In front of him was a wall. A plain white one, with no visible watermarks or cracks like the ones of his apartment. Blinking slowly, he felt his eyes adjust to the darkness in the room and he started noticing more and more little things. The blankets tossed over him (blankets? he only had one) were all thicker and stiffer than his own threadbare throw. He was still wearing his clothes from earlier, which was apparent due to the collar of his shirt pushing rather uncomfortably against his throat.
A deep and scratchy voice erupted from the silence, startling him half to death. His back was to the sound so he strained with all he had to listen to what was being said and also be as careful as possible not move.
"Hey Paige," it whispered, the voice almost too loud in the quiet, but also filling it the most appropriate and soothing way, the deep bass of it thrumming with his own heartbeat. Somehow, Marco realized it must be still snowing outside. This silence was too charged for anything else.
"I think it could have gone better." Still so soft. He realized the person must think he was still asleep.
"No. I don't think he's ready for that."
Marco felt the last bit of fatigue wash away as he listened, somehow not bothered by the fact that he was in a strange room and listening to his captor's conversation. The man's voice lifted and fell as he spoke but never rose beyond the quiet decibel he had started on, as if speaking to someone on their deathbed and calming his nerves without effort.
"I know you are, love...but you had to have seen him. Trust me okay?"
"He...he did? Um, well tell him I said hi." The voice turned from confident to stupefied quickly, as if shocked by some bit of news. Marco wondered what could have thrown the man's cool off so easily.
"Oh." There was the surprise again.
"Yeah, yeah I'm okay. Just...shocked. I'm happy though."
A sigh. Marco didn't like it when the voice sighed. It sounded sad.
"I know...but that's not my choice in the end."
"Yeah, I'll call you back later. I love you too, sweet potato. Bye."
With a start, Marco's eyes pinged open. His movement, while hardly noticeable to the rooms other occupant, was stopped immediately. Sweet potato. Paige. Dylan.
Without even thinking, Marco rolled over in the unfamiliar bed and faced the voice, not surprised by the blonde hair and broad shoulders he found there. Dylan jumped at seeing his open eyes but hastily smiled as he lowered himself back on the bed, plenty far away from the Italian man and settled against the headboard.
"Hey. You okay?"
No, he thought. I'm cold and you're a foot away. You were talking to Paige on the phone about me. I shouldn't be here. YOU shouldn't be here. My life is falling around my ears as we speak.
"I'm fine. Where am I?"
Dylan looked concerned, but did smile and sweep his eyes over the room. "My hotel room. I'm sorry. I didn't even think. I just knew it was closer than your apartment."
Marco nodded and started to get up. "Well thanks. I need to go. Anne's probably worrying herself sick wondering where I am."
"Actually she dropped by earlier to make sure you were okay and give me some of your clothes. She also said she picked up your paycheck and visited the landlord for you."
He stopped fumbling with his shoes (which he had found almost under the bed) and turned surprised eyes on the blonde man still situated against the headboard. "She…she did? Why would she do that?" he said, eyebrows knitting together.
"Oh I don't know. Maybe she thought you needed to breathe at some point."
The anger and irritation he had felt earlier at the coffee shop reared it's ugly head again and Marco distractedly wondered if there was something wrong with him, what with the way he was snapping at people lately.
"What's your point?"
Dylan got up from the bed and stood in front of the Italian man, blocking his way to the door and wearing the same expression he remembered from high school when Paige always tried to talk about Mr. O, the effect only slightly ruined due to his shirtless state and the pillow crease across his forehead.
"Look Marco-…Adamo, whoever in the hell you are! She stopped by and we…we talked okay? She told me that today was the first time she'd ever gotten two words out of you about high school. She said that you haven't had a day off in the three years she's known you. To top off this most disconcerting little chat, when I asked her if she'd ever heard of a girl named Ellie she made a face along the lines of "what in the hell are you talking about?" Now tell me…when were you ever planning on dealing with this or were you ever going to?"
Marco felt a heavy thrum vibrate down his spine, hissing and crackling as it made its way down. Before he knew what was happening, his hand met Dylan's cheek with a resounding crack, throwing the other man's balance off and causing him to topple over into the dresser at his right from the impact.
Gathering up his scarf from where his shoes had sat, Marco threw one last disgusted look at the blonde before stalking out, slamming the door soundly behind his back and cutting off Dylan's shouts for him to stop.
Twice! He mused. Twice this man had had pried beyond his personal rights. And twice Marco had reacted like he'd been burned! Who did he think he was! Honestly! Just because he was some psychological expert didn't mean he had one inkling of what this was like for him!
Marco stopped abruptly, staring in bewilderment at his trainers under a streetlamp. What if…what if Dylan didn't know he realized. Dylan didn't know. Didn't know why it bothered him so much. He didn't know why he was so interested in Sean's welfare.
How long Marco stood there in the middle of the sidewalk and stared dumbfounded he hadn't a clue. But it was obvious that he had overlooked a great possibility.
That Dylan…as adept at his "mind games" as he claimed to be…was missing the most crucial detail to his past that kept him away.
Oh God.
Thundering footfalls echoed down the street and still he did not look up. All of life's questions were answered in those shoelaces and he'd be damned if he was going to ruin this epiphany because someone didn't know how to run without sounding like a herd of buffalo. Marco smiled bitterly in spite of his mood.
More of this humor sneaking, his mind snarled sarcastically. It really had to stop.
"Marco!"
Then again, perhaps his shoelaces could wait. Blinking in a confused fashion, Marco looked up dreamily from under his eyelashes and saw Dylan two feet in front of him, still bare-chested save for the black trench coat flapping in the harsh wind.
"Marco…please. I didn't…I didn't mean it. I swear," he panted, sounding beyond desperate. "I didn't mean it. I just…God, I'm just confused Marco. We've got to talk. We've got to talk without fighting. Just once."
"Dylan?" the Italian questioned in an almost childish, far off voice. Marco raised his head up farther and looked the man square in the eye, swallowing noisily and taking a deep breath.
"Dylan…do you know why Ellie killed herself?"
Marco mused that if the expression on the blonde's face was any indication, his question had been the last and furthest thing from his mind at that particular moment and he was now well and truly shocked for the first time during their impromptu reunion.
Except for maybe when I slapped him. Marco internally winced as he noticed the livid red handprint on his former lover's cheek, glowing red hot and shameful against his pale skin. Ducking his head and blushing furiously he asked again, fiddling with his scarf.
"Dylan, answer me please. It's important."
"No," came the reply, shock laced into the two letters in almost startling contrast to the absolute certainty and growing feeling of understanding blossoming inside of the darker man. "We just….well there were guesses. And I'm certain we were right. Sean confirmed most of them. So I guess…yeah. We do know. I-…Marco what is this about?"
Motioning with his hand, Marco pleaded with his eyes and started walking down the dark and almost uninhabited street, picking his feet up a little higher than necessary to avoid getting his socks wet from the snow. "Come on. Coffee first. And probably some alcohol. We're going to want it."
And almost as an after thought, the shorter man whirled around and poked a defiant finger into the taller man's chest. "And for the record, this isn't for you. It's for Ellie," he spat before doing an about face and continuing down the walk.
Twenty minutes of trudging through the snow and cursing the weather, and the state of his clothes, and Dylan, and his whole damned life in general, Marco reached a 24 hour diner and stepped inside, shaking his hair like a wet dog to rid it of the annoying flakes, blonde man entering behind him, still as oddly silent as he had been for the entire walk.
The pungent smell of stale coffee wafting between them with the electric sparks of tension mixing in…the atmosphere was almost laughable in a way, but for the first time during his odd phase of dark humor, Marco didn't feel the need to laugh at the situation.
On the contrary, he felt those same unneeded and completely uncalled for tears rise up and sit behind his eyes as if waiting for the smallest of signals before rushing forth to humiliate him further. But that time was not now.
"Marco? This coffee tastes like shit."
The younger man smirked disdainfully and swirled around the brown liquid in a pensive manner, blowing on it as he avoided eye contact. "You get used to it when it's all you can afford. Don't complain. You never notice how good shitty coffee is until you can't buy it anymore."
Strangely enough, Dylan left Marco's statement in the air and didn't comment on it, whether for Marco's state of mind or from simple speechlessness he didn't know, but he was oddly grateful for the lack of questions just this once. After all…this would be hard enough without them breaking off onto useless subjects that only caused them to start quarreling again.
"I suppose I can't hold this off forever. But before I do," he stated, brandishing the same threatening finger as earlier. "Before I do, I want to make this perfectly clear, this is NOT for you in any way, shape, or form. Not even remotely. This is so Ellie may finally rest in peace, God rest her, and you lot will cease finding it necessary to track me across the country and reenact the Spanish Inquisition whenever it suits your fancy. I am content with my life and I would appreciate it very much if after this you put on a smile and got the fuck out of my life. Do we understand each other?"
"Perfectly, cariad"
Marco winced at the second utterance of the endearment and proceeded to take a long gulp of coffee, scalding hundreds of his useful taste buds away in the process.
"Whatever. It started when Sean left for Wasaga Beach. A rather uneventful beginning I'll agree, but it's crucial."
"Yes," Dylan supplied. "We assumed that was the key factor."
"Far, FAR from it Dylan. Shut up and listen will you? Like I was saying…Sean left her, and she was in shambles for weeks after that. Hell months if you want to get technical. She'd been let down her whole life. Her dad, her ma, me, and now the only person she could depend on, her boyfriend, was leaving her to deal…when he knew damn well that she wouldn't be able to 'deal' with him gone. I've forgiven him. Don't get me wrong. He didn't know…but I detest him some nights when I allow myself to think about it."
"Hang on," Dylan interjected, holding up a hand to pause him. "What do you mean you let her down? Marco…you were the most caring person I'd ever met. How could you say that?"
Marco sighed and quashed the overwhelming urge to beat his head against the table. "Dyl…what did I give her? A card game on Friday nights? What kind of friend was I? I was too…" He paused, choking on his words and working on his throat furiously to get the lump that had just formed there away without much success. "I was too wrapped up in you to pay attention to my best friend who was like my right arm. And I will….I will never forgive myself for that."
Dylan only shifted uncomfortably and nodded for him to continue, which Marco obligingly did without question, sipping more of the coffee as he stopped to catch his breath.
"By May you and I were quits…and only then did I notice what an indispensable asset that beautiful girl was to me. I spent every waking moment with her. And, I again, hate myself for the fact that during our reconciliation all I spoke about was my pain. It had been so long since her cutting escapades. I suppose…I suppose you could say we had all forgotten."
The knot in his throat was becoming more pronounced as his story went on and Marco cleared his throat viciously, stubbornly refusing to cry again come hell or high water. He flat out refused to embarrass himself like that again. His pa would be ashamed.
"You know," he guffawed with glassy eyes. "It was actually your sister who drew me out of my depression long enough to notice her. She gave me quite the verbal dressing down one afternoon. God, your sister breathes fire, you know? I literally felt the temperature rise ten degrees. And that was only her warm up."
Dylan smiled appreciatively at this but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes and Marco knew that his jokes were being made for him as a distraction, a procrastination tool…because the punch line was getting closer.
"Um, anyway, she gave me a talking to and pointed out how self-centered I was being, which that in itself was quite the eye-opener. I'd never been accused of that before, that much was certain. So I immediately ran over to Ellie's house. And we reconciled and that's when things started to look better."
As Marco reached the stopping point, Dylan's almost comically intense gaze broke off and he signaled the man behind the counter for a fresh round of coffee. "You know, it's really not all that bad."
The words didn't process at first, so lost was he in his thoughts, but after a hearty pause Marco smiled wanly and raised his glass slightly. "Told you."
"Anyway," the blonde said, redirecting the conversation back on track. "So at this point she's happy. What happened to change that so dramatically?"
Marco set his glass down and rubbed slow circles at his temples, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the noises of the diner and the palpable gaze of the man across from him.
"Dylan, you know the answer to that," he said tiredly.
"The pregnancy?"
The Italian paused his fingers and glanced up, nodding gravely and physically trying not to be sick at the table.
"Yeah, the pregnancy."
The blonde reached forward and took a tremendous swallow of coffee before leaning farther forward and resting serious blue eyes on the younger man. "So…so you knew about it then?"
Marco sighed and scrubbed a hand through his dirty hair, wishing to any deity that was listening to throw down some lightning bolts or cataclysmic events in an effort to stall the inevitable. "Yes, I knew. I knew the day she found out. She called me at three a.m. the very night she had taken the test."
He stopped and wiped furiously at his eyes without looking up. "She had been sobbing on the phone, I could barely hear her over her stereo. All I heard was 'so dead…mom…kill me' before I dropped the damned thing and went running."
From across the table a large hand materialized and grasped his own, causing the minute tremors to subside slightly. Marco sniffed loudly and dropped his head into the crook of his folded arm on the table, his left hand remaining firmly clasped in Dylan's as he spoke again in a muffled voice.
"When I got there…the carpet. Oh God, the carpet had been so red. So red. And her mom was nowhere to be found. And she was crying…so…much," he hiccupped. "I panicked and searched the entire house for bandages. Couldn't find any. I ended up having to use a dishtowel. But the bleeding…the bleeding just wouldn't stop."
The sobs were tearing out of him now and he knew the man behind the bar had to be giving them odd looks now. A second broad hand came down on his shaking shoulder and rubbed slow circles there, trailing up into his hair every so often as if torn between where was a better place to rest.
"Cariad…come on. I'm taking you home. That's it…come on. Three blocks then you can sleep."
And for some reason, Marco couldn't find it in himself to care that he was being baby talked and led by the hand. In fact, he couldn't seem to get beyond the flashes of Ellie running like quicksilver through his mind.
Marco…I'm dying. Doesn't hurt.
At the phantom voice whispering in his ear Marco felt his knees give way, the harsh crunch of his bones landing on hard concrete and compact snow. But his upper body never felt the cold. The hot tears, and warm arms, and the feverish memories in his mind keeping him near scorching.
The world shifted somewhat, his legs disappearing from beneath him and the ground floating farther away. From the back of his mind he realized he was being picked up by Dylan and his body didn't seem to mind this arrangement at all, turning and curling into his chest, his face burying into his neck. Soft words fell unheeded but appreciated into his ears.
The walk seemed much quicker than he ever remembered it. He vaguely wondered if Dylan had jogged him here, but he quickly discarded the idea because he had not been jostled once. A hand snuck into his jean pocket with some difficulty and after a few curses he heard a door open.
The gold light that had pressed so painfully against his eyelids disappeared almost instantly and he felt himself being lowered with almost exaggerated care onto a more familiar bed.
Marco, does Sean love me? I don't think he does. Do you love me?
Marco coughed wetly into his pillow and dug too short fingernails into his scalp. Yes Ellie, he screamed in his head. I love you. Why…why are you doing this?
"Shh baby. It'll be alright. Try to sleep," a different voice murmured, stirring his hair.
Wanna sleep Marco. Sleep with me?
"Just sleep."
Enjoy the ride? Let me know.