This Brilliant Dance

A/N: I think I'm going to have Sean shy away from Marco(or Marco shy away from Sean?). I don't think Sean is genuinely attracted to Marco, just guys in general. SEAN IS CONFUSED. poor Sean. I think we have our next candidate for "Who wants to have a mental breakdown?" Anyways...

Chapter 8: Here's to the Night

Disclaimer: 'Here's to the Night' courtesy of Eve 6. 'Degrassi: The Next Generation' courtesy of Canadian Television and Epitome pictures.

Finding him in the madness of school is easy. Finding him in the madness of school when no one is paying attention to me or him is tough. Ashley, herself with the same agenda to find him when no one's around, is always watching him like a hawk, and Dylan's always with me or near me and, sometimes, it's enough to make me want to scream.

I'm not going to tell Dylan that Sean and I did some hard-core making out. I'm also going to not tell him about my dreams of Sean. And I am certainly not going to mention exactly who it is I'm thinking about when I'm aroused. Such a creepy word. Yuck.

I'm not going to tell Sean about the latter two, either.

I'm finally able to corner him on his way back from the gym. He got out early because he opted out of participating today, therefore not having to shower, and I'm out of Simpson's class due to a dry throat. So, I see him far down the hall. We're the only ones out here and will be out here for the next ten minutes. I take a deep breath in and walk up to him.

"Hey Marco," he says in a totally un-emotional voice. It breaks my heart into a million pieces, but I don't let on. "What's going on?"

"Not much," I answer, but he has to know that's a lie. "How about you?"

"Just hanging out. I don't wanna be here. Not today," he wrings his hands as if trying to wash away his entire life. It's not that simple. We both know.

I can't say there's sexual tension. It's like, the opposite. There was sexual tension, and now it's gone. This is evident to both of us as we stand here looking like complete fools, both waiting for the other to talk. "Did you..." I start, but I don't want to finish. "Did you maybe want to go to the roof?"

Sean looks around. "Uhh...yea," he says. It seems he only wants to get away. From Degrassi and Ash and his sexuality, but from me as well? Probably.

We sit next to the colored rocks, still in tact for the most part, but having to deal a little bit with the wear and tear of weather. I feel so attracted to Sean, but at the same time, I feel nothing. It's not like I have this internal battle of feeling attracted and feeling repulsed. I think it has to do with this bad boy image that I really crave and will never be able to find in Dylan. But when I'm with Sean, I feel like, well, to tell the truth, I feel nothing. No lust. No repulsion. No ashamedness. No comfort. No confusion. No heartache. I don't feel like he's just Ellie's ex-boyfriend or Ashley's current fuck buddy.

But I still feel like I want him. I reach out and grab his hand. He doesn't pull back. We still don't look at each other. "Marco," he starts, but I already know what he's going to say. I know by the tone of his voice, but I also knew before he even opened his mouth.

"It's OK, Sean. I know." So I stand up and start walking. I don't know why this means so much to me. All I know is that it does. I turn around and see him standing, too. I walk back towards him. I kiss him once, just to be sure. We both cringe at the lip contact, as it can't be called anything else. "Just checking," I say, and we both smile. It's that easy, right?

"So denied,
So I lied,
Are you the now or never kind?"

I walk up to her in the hall and immediately sense something's wrong. She won't look at me in the eye. "Emma," I say a few times, softly. When she pulls her head out of the locker, I see her tears. My first reaction is to hold her, no matter how weird that is to anyone else. I'll get hell from Manny later, but she needs me. I can sense it.

"Craig I just can't take it anymore," she whispers. "I just can't." I know what she means, but I have to keep her with me.

"Emma," I whisper again. Her name is so pure and beautiful. Every time I say it, chills go down my spine, and I have this instant gut reaction. "I'm here now." I'm here now? How corny. Yes, you are there. Now. So? Do you have to point it out to her? She's not stupid.

People are staring now. It's just a matter of time before Manny sees us. Emma looks around, sensing the same thing. "I'll be fine," she whispers and pulls herself out of my arms.

I know she's lying. I can feel the lie radiate off her skin like a chemical disease. I can't give up. "Follow me. Don't make it seem like you're doing so," I say into her hair right above her ear. She mumbles, and her head bobs the slightest bit into a nod. I smile, still into her hair, before I walk away and make my way to the front doors.

This part of the school is deserted for an unknown reason. I stall to let her catch up. Once she's standing next to me, I intertwine my fingers in her's. I look at her face and see the sharp beginnings of a blush on the corners of her cheek. I squeeze her hand, and we walk outside.

We get home to a (luckily) Joey-less house. I still take her to the garage to be safe. I put in Sleepers because Joe and I had rented it last night. She falls asleep, curled up on the couch with her head in my lap. I stroke her hair while still watching the movie, now set on low. "I remember that night because it was the night of my 14th birthday. I remember that night because it was the one in which my childhood was lost forever," the sad looking kid on the movie says to me. I'm suddenly glad Emma's asleep, because this movie is not the kind that would cheer a person up.

As the movie continues down it's seemingly hopeless spiral pit, I feel more and more obliged to protect Emma from it's content. At some point(I'm not sure when), I realize Emma's not a little girl anymore. I can't protect her from everything, but I want to try. I slowly uncover all these hidden feelings for Emma, but I try to suppress them, for her sake and Manny's.

"Craig," I hear Emma's fragile voice manage. I look down and brush some hair out of her face.

"Em," I answer.

"Promise me," she says, "promise that you'll never leave."

I kiss her temple. "No, Em, I'll never leave." This seems to satisfy her, and she turns a little in my lap. Since my face is still down next to her's, this almost perfectly aligns our lips. She looks up at me with pleading eyes. Finally, I let the moment take control, and I lean down to kiss her. At that moment, she is everything. I let her go, and she falls peacefully back into my lap.

After a minute, she's fast asleep again.

I hear a faint knock on the door, and I hurry to answer it before they knock again. "Manny," I said following the door out and then closing it. "Hey."

"Hey. Is she here now?" Manny says, but she's not mad.

"Who?" I ask innocently.

"Emma," she answers. "I heard you left school together."

"Oh, yea," I answer honestly, preparing myself for the worst. But she's caught me, and no amount of lies would be able to save me now. "She's asleep."

She nods, but she still doesn't seem mad. Other than being obviously grateful, I'm also confused. She leans up and kisses me. "Joey's not home," she makes as an observation. I nod. "Craig, neither of us is really any good at the games we're playing. We should just walk away now before anyone gets any more hurt."

"I agree," I say after a short pause. We're walking into my house now. We're going up the stairs. We're in my room. I don't even realize we're doing this, but Manny seems to know. She walks over to my bedside table drawer and grabs a condom. "Manny, what's going on?" I ask.

"Good-bye sex," she says.

"In a day and a day love,
I'm gonna be gone for good again.
Are you willing to be had,
Are you cool with just tonight?"

I sit alone at the end of the Women's Clinic. I feel like crap, knowing that at some point I made Manny feel like shit for sitting in this exact same waiting room. "Kerwin, Ashley Kerwin," my name is said from far away, and so I get up and find the voice. The woman gives me a reassuring look as she ushers me into her office.

I'm asked a few simple questions, and then she gives me a look to let me know it's time to talk. "Do you have sex regularly?"

"Yes."

"How many partners on a regular basis, Ashley?"

"Two."

"Have you ever had unprotected sex?"

"Yes."

"Do you regularly have sex unprotected?"

"No."

"OK, Ash, now I'm going to need you to tell me your symptoms."

I squeeze my eyes shut. "It hurts to urinate," I start. "And I've been bleeding during intercourse."

She nods her head knowingly. "OK, now I'm going to perform a test for a number of STDs."

"OK," I whisper.

I'm out in the waiting room again. I hate being alone. I grab Reader's Digest and flip through heroic tales of mountain climbers and the like. "Ashley," the same woman says my name. I follow her once again into the office. "It's what I expected. You have Gonorrhea. That's the bad news. The good news is that it's treatable."

I sigh. It's not a happy sigh or a bad sigh. The good news is that it is treatable, and it's not like I'm pregnant so no one has to know. The bad news is that I have an STD. "So what do we do?" I ask.

"I'm going to fill out a perscription right now. I also need you to go and tell every person you've had intercourse with to be tested, even if they don't have the symptoms. I know you think that will be very hard, but it has to be done."

"No," I interrupt her. "It's fine."

She smiles and rips off a piece of paper. "Come back in a week, Ashley," she says. I give a small smile and walk out. I start my car and head to the pharmacy. I'm so tired. I'll call J.T. and Sean later.

"Here's a toast to all those who hear me all too well.
Here's to the nights we felt alive.
Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry.
Here's to goodbye,
Tomorrow's gonna come too soon."

I took a deep breath and walked into the clinic. It was a different one than Ashley had been at, but she came with me anyway. For a ride, mostly, even though I could've taken the bus. "I don't see how you could've gotten it," I hiss.

Her fingers stiffen a bit. "I don't know either. All we do know is that I have it and you need to be tested."

We choose two seats pretty far away from the clump of people in the center. I pick up a random magazine and flip through it, but she's prepared and has a book with her. "JT Yorke," I hear my name called.

I give her a kiss on the forehead and she whispers, "Good luck," as I make my way to the woman who called my name.

It takes 45 minutes and three chats with Dr. Sinclair to determine that I don't have the disease. It's great news, but it could also be the worst news of my life.

I make my way back into the waiting room. It's true, there's a lot of ways to get this disease without having sex. But it's the most likely cause. And, if I don't have it, who could've given it to her? Would I be so blind as to miss her sleeping around and cheating on me?

I see her, and we exchange relieved glances. I'm faking mine. If she knew exactly what was going through my head at this exact moment, she would cringe. We walk out to the car showing no signs of affection. I don't reach for her hand or put my arm around her shoulders.

I calmly wait until we are in the car before I ask. "Ashley, you weren't born with this. We both know this. Now, I need to know how you got it right now or I will be forced to do something drastic," I say through clenched teeth. I'm not yelling, exactly, more like whispering in a harsh tone.

I hear her starting to cry, and I look over, hurt. I hadn't tried to make her cry. "J.T., there's something you should know. . ." With that small sentence, I felt my world crashing down around me.

"Put your name on the line,
Along with place and time.
Wanna stay not to go,
I wanna ditch the logical."

I feel myself shift so that we're closer. I think this is very brave of me. "Craig," I mumble.

He turns to face me. "Manny..." he starts. We stare at each other, both hiding our act under the sheets. My name coming from his mouth seems like such a sin, and I shut my eyes tightly. "Why don't you care?"

There's a million answers to this question, as well as a million questions I can ask him. I open my eyes and touch the soft skin of his cheek gently. "Deep down, you knew. You knew as well as I did that we have nothing. All we had going for us was sex, and then I fucked that up. You're in love with someone else. I was in love with the prospect of falling in love. But falling in love was the worst idea I ever had."

He rubs his face, probably trying to forget about us already. I don't care enough to stop him. There's a gap in between our bodies, as much symbolism in this as there can be in any act we participate in at this point. We both know that Emma's waiting, and if I don't hurry, he'll be quick to tell me this. I pull myself up and manage to put my clothes on.

And I mourn. I mourn not for the death of this pathetic relationship. I mourn for the loss of my soul somewhere in the midst of it. When had I lost this minimal sense of self I once had? When I had I thrown so much caution to the wind as to let myself stay in such an obvious dead end relationship? I'm dressed quickly, as I've been in enough compromising positions as to have practice in the dressing quickly category. I look around the room, and I feel tears come.

I look for things of mine that I've haphazardly left over our year long relationship. I look for clothes, for papers, even for a damn hair thing that would've fallen on the floor during an intense "study session." I find nothing. I look at the walls, void of any sign that Craig even had a girlfriend, unless she was in any number of 80's punk bands. I look to the floor, ashamed. "I'll bring your stuff by later this week," is all I say. I turn and heads toward the door.

"Manny..." he stops me. I turn around with a blank expression on my face. "Never mind," he whispers. And I walk out, this time with no one stopping me.

"Here's a toast to all those who hear me all too well.
Here's to the nights we felt alive.
Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry.
Here's to goodbye,
Tomorrow's gonna come too soon."

In a situation such as mine, a person learns how to lie and adapt to fit their surroundings. It just so happens that I was given a long time to think about my response to his accusation, and I am armed with a brilliant lie. I know it's a big one. I know no one would ever be able to forgive me if they found out it was a lie. But it's believable. And, right now, that's all I'm going for.

I let myself cry a few seconds before I start, to add to the drama. "JT, there's something you should know," I start, and I feel his entire body tense. "I had a really bad time in my life once, and I've tried my hardest to block it out. However, there's things like this always here to remind me.

"A few years back, right after my dad left and before Kate met Jeff, she met another man. His name was Paul Benson, and he and my mom had a very heavy relationship. She was pretty fucked up, and everything, so it intensified a long time before it should have. He moved in after a month, and that's when it started.

"JT, he raped me. A lot. He was a dirty, greasy, disgusting man, who I hated before he even touched me. I didn't shut up. It took me about three months to sort out who my mom would believe, and then I took a leap of faith and hoped she would believe me. She did, and he left our lives without so much as an apology."

Now, yes, it is true that my mother was confused after my dad left us. It is also true that she had a boyfriend named Paul Benson, and that he was a dirty man. He did, in fact, move in with us after a very short time, although in real time, I think it was closer to three months. And it is true that, one day, he was gone, and Kate and I never talked about it again. It is not true that he touched me, raped me, or even tried to bond with me for that matter.

We were in front of JT's house by the time the story was over, and my face was drenched in a storm of tears. The look on his face haunts me. It's this intense rage and sympathy all mixed into one. I can tell all he wants to do is find Paul Benson and rip his dick off. I feel like shit suddenly, but I can't leave my lie now. I knew this was going to happen. I must live with it. "Come in with me," he says after a few minutes of silence. "Spend the night. I love you."

And the hardest part is that I know it's true. He loves me more than anything, and in my sick, twisted, perverted mind, I am able to take advantage of that. I hate myself. But I hate Paul Benson more.

"All my time is frozen motion.
Can't I stay an hour or two or more?
Don't let me let you go.
Here's a toast to all those who hear me all too well."

I feel like death. I feel like a corpse. I've drunk myself to sleep every night this week. Everything's finally coming together, and it's not at all how it's supposed to be played out. There are a few things taking center stage on my mind lately.

Ashley has Gonorrhea. I fucking hate that word, by the way. And now I fucking hate the disease, for her sake. For my sake as well, since we're both deftly aware that it was I who gave it to her. So, if JT doesn't have it, she's screwed and I'm screwed and the whole fucking thing gets blown to bits.

And this is hardly to mention how I now have to go down and get this shit treated. I'm glad she was responsible about it, so I know, but they're going to tell me to tell all of my sexual partners, and I'm going to make it very clear that I am not in contact with most of them. I might be nice and tell Amy, but she was my first and I doubt that she was the one who gave it to me, so it will be a useless task.

Not to mention that Marco and I had a final confrontation. This horrible experience that I hope I never have to repeat in my life. It was so awkward. We both realized how we were attracted to the idea of the other person, and not the person. For him, this bad boy/rough gangsta kid image is sexy. Yes, I just chuckled at that thought. For me, I think it's just a guy I can control. A guy I can manipulate. A guy.

So I drink. I drink and then I lay in bed and let the thoughts flow over me like a tidal wave. The phone rings, and I ignore it. I don't feel like talking to anyone. I know I'm going to answer the phone to bad news. I know someday soon, Ashley will be standing on my doorstep, and I will have no choice. I will let her live here. And then, everything will fall so far so fast that our heads will spin. I'm not exactly looking forward to that day.

So, my thoughts end up on Ellie. Before I fucked things up, I looked forward to every new day. When holding her in my arms was this dream, and I was fucking Sean Cameron, the one no one could touch. Now, an insult from a sewer rat would probably ruin my day.

See how bad I fucked things up without you, El? Your best fucking friend has an STD, thanks to me. Your other best friend has cheated on the love of his live and probably seriously thought about leaving him, thanks to me. And not that it matters, but there are countless other people who are probably griping about me at this very minute.

I can't seem to forgive you for leaving. I still love you. Please help Ashley, because I know she's screwing up pretty badly right now, and some other world guidance would probably be of great use to her. And, if it's not too much trouble, help me to stop drinking. I miss sober thoughts.

"Here's to the nights we felt alive.
Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry.
Here's to good bye,
Tomorrow's gonna come too soon."