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Chapter Two

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It took him some time to finally calm Marco down enough to get him up and into his car. There was no way Marco could go home. His parents were gone for a week and he was in no shape to be left alone in an empty house. Dylan took him to the Michalchuk house. He let Marco sit on the couch and took a look at his injuries. A bit of a black eye, a little cut, and a very bruised stomach and chest. He bandaged him up for the evening and Marco looked into his eyes, tears streaming down his face silently.

"Marco..."

The Italian boy's lower chin quavered at the kindness in Dylan's voice. His eyes looked so helpless, so hurt. Dylan wanted nothing more then to get back at the people who did this to him.

"Get some rest," he sighed, "We'll deal with this later."

Marco gave him one last wounded look before falling asleep on the same big couch. Dylan left the room for a while, and then came back, with a blanket in his arms. He put it over the other boy, tenderly brushing away a lock of his ebony hair. His vision skimmed over to the developing black left eye. A rush of protectiveness overwhelmed him. He hadn't felt like this before with someone else.

This was unusual, more... certain. Dylan thought about the horror he had seen on the boy's face. He never wanted to witness him so vulnerable. He was happier seeing him with a smile on his face; when it got so big, that dimples that popped up on Marco's cheeks. The way his beautiful dark eyes wandered when he was embarrassed or restless. When Marco got nervous about every little thing, it drove him crazy sometimes... but Dylan loved that about him. Marco's craziness attracted him somehow. Dylan pulled himself back out of his thoughts and kindly set a kiss on top of his head.

The front door was thrown open loudly and his younger sister Paige came in, saying in her little voice, "Hey big bro. What's going on?"

He stood up, walking over, "Shhh!" She pried over to the sleeping figure curiously.

"Who's that?"

"Do you have to be so nosy? It's Marco! Keep your voice down!" Paige ignored his declaration and gave him an interested look. His eyes flashed heatedly. "Some creeps beat him up in the park."

"Again?"

He gaped. "This has happened to him before!"

"Didn't I tell you? It happened when you had a hockey game. He lied about it, saying they beat him up for his shoes." He shook his head, remembering that.

She frowned, crossing her arms, "Where were you when this happened to him?"

Dylan replied, a bit defensive, "I had left my bag in the Dot." His face looked ashamed. "I shouldn't have left him alone." Paige touched his shoulder.

"Don't blame yourself, Dyll. What happened, happened, and you can't change it."

"If I had been there, I could have stopped them." Paige really hated seeing him upset like this. He was normally a happy-go-lucky person; if something upset him, it really hit hard. Her pale blue eyes wandered back to the latent boy. She murmured, "I know..."

He growled, "I'm calling the police in the morning. Hopefully, they can catch them this time."

Dylan stormed out of the room as Paige watched after him, eyeing him woeful.