A/N: Hmmm. Ellie's POV was intended to be a one-shot. But it got so much feedback I decided to do a Paige POV. So I guess I could just keep the title still? I dunno. Tell me what I should do. Oh, and KaitlinBell, I used your 'smiling like a loon' thing in here. It just seemed to fit. Hah.
"Dilan," Paige whispered, her eyes just beginning to shut.
"Mom! Mom! C'mere, quick!" Dylan, at a tender age of three, shouted down the hallway.
"What is it, Dylan?" Rose Michalchuck rubbed at her eyes as she made her way to her nine-month old daughter's bedroom.
"Mom, she said her first word!" Dylan's lisp was making it a bit hard for a groggy Mrs. Michalchuck to understand, but she got the point through.
"What?" She asked in shock.
"She said my name, mom!" Dylan stood on his tip toes to see over his sister's crib. "Her first word was my name," he excitedly whispered.
"And I'll never let you forget it," Dylan told me.
"Just because your name was my first word, doesn't mean that it's my favorite, big brother." I shot Dylan a huge grin, and then returned to the old cardboard box with several faded scrapbooks binding nineteen-year-old pictures together.
After graduating, Dylan had had sudden urges to look at family scrapbooks and reminisce. I wasn't particularly a fan, but he liked to do it.
"Hey look! Your grade nine yearbook." I pulled out the somewhat new book out from between two beat-up scrapbooks and opened it up, the pages making that noise from when they haven't been opened for ages.
"Please, spare me." He pushed it away when I stuck it in his face.
"Why? You look so cute!" I opened up to the junior varsity hockey team's page. Dylan was in about every single picture.
"Paige, I said close it." He took the book away from my hands and closed it with his own.
I began to protest, but then quickly shut my mouth, because I remembered why he was being this way.
Grade nine was the year that he came out. To everyone.
"No, Ashley, that was Heather Sinclaire, not Terri..."
"But Paige, I could have sworn that it was-"
I began to interrupt her, when I saw my brother walking past my open doorway.
"Hold on, Ash." I put the phone down and ran to my door. "Dyl, c'mere for a sec."
"Paige, I really can't." He kept his back turned away from me, deliberately hiding his face. But by the rip on the back of his collar, I could tell something was up.
"Dylan, what happened to your shirt?" I came closer to him.
"Nothing, Paige. Could you please leave me alone?" By the time he finished his sentence, I could hear him start to cry.
"Turn around," I told him.
"Paige-" Before he could protest any longer, I spun him around myself.
"Dylan- oh my God- Mom!"
"Paige! No!" He covered my mouth with a scraped-up hand. "No, you can't say a word."
Dylan had cuts and bruises all over his face, blood dripping out every which direction. I could see fear and terror in his eyes, and trails of tears running down his face, cutting through the layers of dirt amongst his wounds.
"Oh my God-" I embraced my brother in a hug, not caring if the blood and dirt on his clothes stained mine.
I took him into my room and quickly closed the door. I sat him down onto my bed, and hung the phone up on Ashley. I'd have to talk to her about Heather Sinclaire later.
"Tell me what happened." I took a tissue from the side of my bed and began to dab at his face.
"I- I got beat up at school," he said quietly.
"Obviously." I watched him cringe as I held the thin paper onto his forehead. "But why?"
Tears were coming back to his eyes. I was pretty sure that I would start up soon if he didn't stop. It really did hurt me to see my brother in pain.
"Come on, Dylan. You know you can tell me." I saw the look of worry in his eyes. "I won't tell mom or dad. Promise."
He hesitated for a second, then blurted out what I had somewhat expected all along.
"My teammates... they caught me kissing a..." He looked away to my stuffed animals.
I just waited and stared expectantly.
"Boy," he said quietly.
Remembering my brother coming out to me is probably the one memory I go back to often. Especially when... he's around.
'He' meaning Marco, of course. The apparent love of my brother's life.
"God, I think my head is going to burst from all this screaming," Marco told me as he sat down onto the cold bleachers in the hockey arena.
"That would make two of us, Hun. GO DYLAN!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, waving an angry mitted fist at the ice.
"Oh my God..." Marco and I began to simultaneously rise from the stands as my brother captured the puck from the opposing team.
"He's gonna score..." I whispered.
"Come on..." Marco chanted.
"So close..." I watched as the puck went back and forth, like a dog being tempted with a bone.
"YES!" We both screamed as my brother hit the last goal of the night into the net. The crowd erupted with screams and cheers.
Marco hugged me, smiling like a loon.
Then half of the stadium began to pour out of the arena, following the hockey player's suit as they continued to the locker rooms. Dylan and a few other players lagged behind to sign autographs, as the fans hung over the sides begging to get the MVP for the night's signature.
The arena was virtually empty fifteen minutes later, all except for Marco, Dylan, and I. Dylan skated over to where we were picking up the popcorn we spilled while screaming our heads off.
"Dylan, I swear. You are a hockey star descended straight from God," I told him.
He swiped his helmet off, and then pushed his matted hair out of his face. "Maybe I'm just descended straight from God, period," he playfully bragged.
I snorted and rolled my eyes, my usual response to his stupid bragging. I bent down to pick up my purse, as I continued on with my compliment.
"I mean, seriously, Dylan. You played so wel-" By the time I had come back up and turned around; there was Marco and Dylan staring into each other's eyes through the fiberglass.
"Well, okay then." I snuck through the bleachers and hopped down the steps to the foyer, but not before I caught Marco leaping over the wall and into Dylan's arms.
Oh, yes. Apparently in love indeed.
A/N: Candy apples? Pumpkin pie? Please, just review.