A/N: Obviously, I've decided to continue. Thanks for all the support, guys. :-* I apologize for not having written in a long while. You all have permission to kill me. I hope none of you thought this was over because there's no way I would just end it like that. I'm getting a little indecisive about where this is going after these next couple of chapters, though -- I've determined that what I was going to do before just won't work, so we'll see. Anyway, hope this doesn't suck too bad.

Cruel Despair

Chapter Seven

The sound of his alarm clock ringing into the early Monday morning awoke Marco from his slumber. His eyelids slowly pulled apart and he stared up at the ceiling for a moment before stretching his arms over his head, yawning softly. A soft groan escaped his lips as the realization that it was Monday hit him. And then, a louder, much more meaningful groan sounded as he recalled the events of the weekend prior. He sat up straight in his bed, sheets still covering the lower portion of his body and his weight supported by his arms propped up behind him. He let out a shaky, scared breath. There was no way he could go to school that day.

Marco's thoughts reeled back to the previous Friday, and a small smile spread across his face. Spinner had kissed him. Spinner Mason, one of the most seemingly ignorant, hot headed people Marco had known, had kissed him. It was almost unreal. It would have been completely unreal if he couldn't still feel Spinner grabbing his collar and then his lips pressing his in a forceful way, but at the same time tenderly. When Spinner pushed him away, he'd looked almost as shocked as Marco had. And then everything else was a blur in his mind; they'd kissed again, softer, slower, more carefully, still nervous but not so much.

It was all Marco had thought about that night and the following day. In all of the confusion about who he really was, he'd never thought that much about someone being so close to him, or the way his first kiss with someone of the same sex would feel. But now that it had happened, he was convinced that it was the only way that he would have wanted it. Neither really knew what they were doing, but it had worked, somehow. He couldn't get his mind off of it.

How many times Marco'd picked up the phone that Saturday and begun dialing Spinner's number before thinking better of it and hanging up, he couldn't count. He wanted so bad to speak with Spinner, to see if he'd been feeling the same way, to try to find out if maybe, just maybe, something more would develop, as unlikely as it seemed. But he got hold of himself before dialing all the way. He didn't want to put any pressure on Spinner; Marco had known about his sexuality for a while, but as far as he could tell, Spinner hadn't, and he thought that maybe he needed time to sort things out. And, truth be told, Marco was a little nervous. What if it had just been some spur-of-the-moment thing; what if Spinner completely and utterly hated him after that?

A much worse, heart-wrenching feeling sunk in the next day. It hadn't dawned on him before that, but the more and more Marco thought about it, the more it started to make sense and the more he was convinced that it was true. What if the kiss had been Spinner's deranged way of making fun of him? What if it had all been a part of a plan to sabotage Marco, to expose his sexuality to the entire school? He began to wonder if Spinner had placed a hidden camera somewhere; if he'd caught the whole thing on tape and was planning on showing it to everyone to make a fool out of him? He'd never be able to show his face in Degrassi's halls again. By the time Sunday night rolled around, Marco was one hundred percent convinced that his fears were correct.

His breathing becoming somewhat heavy and beads of sweat forming on his forehead, Marco sat in bed for a moment before tumbling onto the floor. He contemplated what he'd tell his mother when he got downstairs; the good old I'm-not-feeling-good-I-think-I-might-have-strep-throat-and-I've-got-a-headache excuse usually worked, so he chose his words carefully while bounding down the steps into the hall.

"Mom, I don't feel good." Marco turned into the gleaming white kitchen, his mom standing at the refrigerator, pulling a carton of orange juice out. As she spun around to face him, Marco fixed a sick and, what he thought to be, heart breaking expression on his face, trying to sound as sick as possible. He even lifted his fist and coughed into it weakly, before looking up at her with puppy dog eyes.

His mother gave him the once over, staring at him for a moment, before her eyes rolled skyward and she reached up into the cabinet to pull a couple of glasses down. "You're going," she told him sternly, filling the glasses with the juice.

"But Mom--" Realizing that his plead came off too anxious and not sick enough, he coughed once again and frowned. "Mom, I really don't think I can."

She turned and handed him one of the glasses. "You're going," she repeated, a knowing expression across her face.

Defeated, Marco sighed and took the glass, narrowing his eyes at his mother as he took a small sip. He set the glass down on the counter and turned back out of the kitchen, trudging up the stairs and into his room.

After quickly pulling some clean clothes on, fixing his hair in the mirror, spraying on some cologne and grabbing his backpack, Marco stole a glance at the clock. He noticed that there were only ten minutes until the first bell rang, so he raced out of his room and down the steps, shouting a quick "Bye!" to his mom before disappearing out the door and slamming it behind him.

As he walked down the sidewalk, shivering slightly from the cold air, his thoughts flooded back to Spinner and the weekend's events. His shoulders tensed and his pace began to quicken. He didn't know what he was going to do. He winced as he imagined people staring at him, calling him names, backing away from him, disgusted. He didn't know how he would handle it--if he could handle it.

When he reached school grounds, his fears were confirmed. Every head--passing by, standing on the steps or on benches--turned in Marco's direction, then to the closest person to whisper something. He sucked in his breath, his eyes darting to the ground, his heart racing and pounding in his ears. This couldn't be happening.

He continued to walk quickly, finally reaching the steps leading inside. He gripped the railing tightly with a sweaty hand before hearing someone call out his name. "Marco.."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Marco lifted his head and waited for the person to approach him, deciding that if someone was going to start something, he was going to take it like a man. He wouldn't run away and cry, even if that's what everyone expected him to do, since they all knew he was gay. He furrowed his eyebrows, feeling suddenly disgusted with himself.

"Marco." He recognized the voice as Terri MacGreggor's; someone he knew from class but didn't associate with much. She stopped beside him, and, to Marco's surprise, placed a hand on his arm gently. What surprised him more, however, was the look on her face. It wasn't a look of horror; it was soft, one of sympathy. He raised an eyebrow at her cautiously.

"I'm so sorry," Terri told him. She stared at him for a moment longer, and then, giving him a slight pat on the arm, walked away.

Too stunned to say anything, Marco stared after her, his mouth gaping open. He glanced around at his surrounding classmates and was shocked to notice that they were all wearing the same sympathetic expression Terri had. Bewildered, Marco slowly continued to walk up the steps, the occasional person reaching out and patting him just like Terri, muttering their condolences. He had no idea what was going on, but one thing was for sure: his sexuality was still a safely kept secret. His shoulders relaxed as he entered the school.

After spinning the combination on his locker and pulling it open, Marco looked up to see Jimmy Brooks approaching him. He pulled out a few books, and then, shutting his locker, turned towards his friend.

"Hey, man, I heard what happened," Jimmy said, his hands clasped together and a nervous look on his face as if he wasn't sure how Marco'd react.

Marco leaned against the locker, looking up at him. "Really? Could you tell me, then?"

A puzzled expression crossed Jimmy's face. "What, you don't know?" Marco shook his head. "Oh, man, that's low.."

"What is?" Marco asked, a little more desperately. "People've been coming up to me for the past five minutes telling me how sorry they are, and I don't even know what they're talking about."

Jimmy sighed. "Look, I probably shouldn't be the one telling you this, but.." Marco raised his eyebrows as Jimmy glanced to the left and right before leaning closer, his voice lowering. "Ellie and Craig had a date this weekend."

"What?" Marco let out a small, relieved laugh. That was all? He'd been worrying himself for nothing.

Apparently, Jimmy had taken his question as one of shock and outrage. "I know, I'm sorry, dude." He clamped a hand on the other boy's back, steering him inside homeroom. He rolled his eyes knowingly. "Chicks."

"Yeah, chicks.." Marco's spotted Spinner as soon as he walked inside. He was sitting in his regular seat, but his body was abnormally straight and upright, his eyes fixed ahead of him. However, he glanced up as the two entered, and, as his and Marco's eyes met, a small, almost unnoticeable, but there, Marco was sure of it, smile formed on his lips. Marco smiled back before sliding into his chair, feeling ultimately better about things.

That is to say, he felt better until his gazed landed on Ellie. She, too, was sitting tense in her seat, not looking at anyone. Immediately as Marco saw Paige and Hazel shooting daggers at her and whispering to each other, he realized why.

"Ellie.." he whispered. She turned towards him, her face expressionless. "Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" she mumbled, before turning back face-front in her seat as Mrs. Kwan* cleared her throat. Marco did the same, and the teacher began to speak in her dull, flat tone. Marco sighed, sure that it would be a long day, but at least one thing was good--from what he saw, Spinner didn't seem to hate him.

Homeroom passed slowly and painfully. Finally, the ring of the bell sounded throughout the hall and Marco jumped up, hoping to catch up with Spinner. He was already out the door, though, and by the time Marco had reached the hallway, he seemed to have disappeared. Sighing softly, he made his way to his locker, still receiving sympathetic stares and "I'm sorry"'s and pats on the shoulder. He played along, trying his hardest to look sad, but stopped when he head a loud voice coming from the end of the hallway.

"... SUCH A LITTLE SLUT! MARCO'S TOO GOOD FOR YOU, ANYWAY. I DON'T KNOW HOW HE PUT UP WITH YOU FOR SO LONG."

"I'M A SLUT? HAVE YOU EVER SEEN YOURSELF?"

Marco spun around on his heel and spotted Paige and Ellie, both red in the face and glaring at each other. A small crowd had formed around them, watching.

"Yeah, I'm not the one who cheats on my boyfriend, thanks." Paige gave Ellie a nasty look.

Ellie's gaze fell to the dirty, tiled floor. "I didn't cheat on my--"

"We all know, Ellie! Don't deny it. I saw you there with Craig--" A hush fell over the spectators and they began whispering to each other. It seemed that the fact that Craig had been the one who Ellie had gone out with was news; eyes bulged and mouths dropped. It made Marco sick.

Taking in a deep breath, Marco took a couple of steps towards the feuding girls, unsure what he was about to do, but knew it had to be something. He couldn't stand there and watch the two fight; after all, essentially, it was Marco's fault for the fight. If Marco hadn't kept playing the boyfriend to Ellie's girlfriend, as fake as it was, none of this would have happened and he couldn't stand by, letting Ellie get attacked. But what was he supposed to do? If he told everyone that the two hadn't really been dating, then more questions would arise. He walked over to the two, feeling incredibly guilty, but just as he opened his mouth to speak and both girls turned towards him, a shadow fell over the crowd.

A stern look was on Principal Raditch's face. "You three. My office. Now."

*Yeah, I couldn't remember whose homeroom the grade nine's were in.. I asked Sesen (love you, btw :-*) and she said Kwan, so I hope it's right. If not, forgive me.