A/N: Hey there… so tonight is my school's homecoming dance. I know, you all must think it's a big deal and all, but obviously I didn't go. I really hate social gatherings… and I had a panic attack yesterday so I really don't feel like tempting fate. So here I am, writing for you guys. I hope you like it~

Marco's POV

Jean was probably the best and worst thing that Marco had ever experienced, respectively. He had been the cause of all of his suffering and was now attempting to put him back together again. Jean wasn't all talk; he did act on somethings he said, but it now became hard to trust him. Marco knew it was stupid to doubt him, but there was a pulsing fear that never ceased pounding in his chest.

"Jean… what are we going to do tomorrow?" Jean paused and tilted the brunette's head up.

"Why are you worrying? School will be fine. I'm going to drive you there, we're going to go about our daily lives, and then I'm going to take you to visit a doctor. Nothing out of the ordinary will occur. Well, aside from the fact that you will be untouchable from now on. If anyone does hurt you, they'll have a little talk with me after school." Marco sighed. So in other words, nothing was going to change.

"So you're ashamed of me. Still? Hasn't tonight changed anything?" Jean blinked while the brunette stood up. "Thank you for your help, but I think I'll take my chances. I'd rather be killed than be in a relationship of any kind with someone who's ashamed to even be seen with me."

"Wait Marco!" Jean leapt up, grabbing at the other's arm. "Don't tell me you're leaving. Not after all this. I love you; we can work this out!" Marco shrugged off the blonde's hand and turned to face him, his chocolate brown eyes wide and filled with mixed emotions.

"I'm sorry Jean. I love you, and always will, but I can't live with pretending there's nothing going on. I'll always be yours, and I'll come back when you've decided to face the music." Jean opened his mouth to interrupt, but Marco was already gone. He walked down the stairs and ran into Mrs. Kirstein.

"Marco? Leaving already?" She seemed genuinely shocked and her eyes betrayed it.

"I'm afraid so ma'am. It's late and my grandfather is probably worried about me." Marco was never one for lying, but at the times it spilled out, it was smooth and perfectly believable. Although, in this case, it wasn't all that far from the truth. It was almost ten o'clock at night, and his grandfather did worry when he wasn't home by five. Damn he was in for it when he got home.

"Oh… alright. Feel free to stop by anytime!" She called after him. Marco smiled sweetly.

"Noted, thank you." Walking out of the house, Marco hurriedly dialed his grandfather's number.

"Where the fuck are you?! You were supposed to be home five. Fucking. Hours. Ago." Marco flinched at the amount of anger in his voice.

"Y-yeah… I know… sorry…" His grandfather snorted.

"Your ass is getting beat the moment you walk through this door. You'd better not have been with another faggot." Marco flinched. His grandfather's words hit way to close to home for his liking.

"No sir, I wasn't."

"Uh huh, that's a load of bullshit." Marco swallowed back a sob. "Get your ass home. We'll talk when you get back."

After walking a few blocks, Marco made his way on to his front porch. Bracing himself, Marco opened the door, only to have his lip split open by a hard slap to the face.

"You son of a bitch. I told you to be back by five every day. Was there some sort of change of plan I wasn't aware of?"

"N-no sir…" Marco stuttered out, only to be hit again, the impact brining him to his knees.

"Shut you trap. You're lucky I even offered to take you in. You'd be dead right now if not for me, and this is how you repay me?!" Marco let out a small groan, resulting in a swift kick to be placed to his gut. A yelp echoed through the house, and rung in the air even after it faded. Several more soon followed, until his grandfather finally stopped. "Go clean yourself up faggot. And this better not happen again." Marco nodded and stumbled up the stairs, into his room. Marco's room was dark, and most of the furniture was blood stained. A few pieces of broken glass lay on a table, with pools of blood forming around them. The air smelled of blood and tears. Marco breathed it in, and collapsed on the bed, sobbing wretchedly. Home sweet home…

A/N: And thus the reason I'm not allowed to ever express emotions. I end up being extremely depressing. I'm so sorry guys… I understand if you stop reading here.

Phoenix out~