Here is chapter three in all it's dramatic glory. Yet another chapter written on paper. I was babysitting at the time so my mind was kinda stuck between both of them...so it's probably very dry and boring. ::shrugs:: I dunno. You tell me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"May we always remember him fondly."

Marco winced slightly as he felt his mother's grip on his hand become firmer, her long fingernails digging into his flesh. Glancing out of the corner of his eye Marco could see she was an absolute mess. Ever since the news of her husband dying she had become a train wreck of raw emotion. Every time he saw her she had tears in her eyes. Her hands trembled all the time now, as if silent shockwaves were pulsing through her. The shaking had only gotten progressively worse due to her nonexistent appetite and insomnia. He had moved past pitying her to down right worrying over her well-being.

He had already lost one parent! Marco was doing everything in his power to keep his other one by his side. He needed her, needed one piece of sanity to hold on to. Even if by now she wasn't really there.

Guests would come by the house with their saran-wrapped casseroles and who knows what, trying in vain to do the neighborly thing. But not a single one so much as got a glance from her. She'd sit in front of the TV, eyes glazed over, seeing something a million miles away, clutching one of her husband's shirts, totally unaware of her well wishers. She consumed herself in her own misery.

Marco would always accept the food parcels and make small talk, but his eyes always strayed to his mother. Even while shaking the visitor's hands and seeing them to the door he subconsciously watched her.

It was more than a little disconcerting to see his mama, usually so full of life and charisma, almost a mere shell of a human being.

He forced small quantities of food into her nightly, tried to talk to her. Marco would tuck her in bed at night and stare down at her emotionless face, the beginnings of tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He'd smooth her hair and kiss her lightly on the forehead and leave her to stare vacantly at the ceiling in the dark, lonesome silence.

Later, while standing at the sink washing dishes with his sleeves rolled up and staring blankly out of the window into the dark, the tears would come. Fast and furious, and without mercy.

So many nights he spent wallowing in his grief, his shame....his guilt. He blamed himself entirely for his father's death.

If he hadn't lied to his father about being at Spinner's he would still be alive.

If he hadn't been at Dylan's he wouldn't have had to lie in the first place.

If he hadn't been gay everything would be alright.

If he hadn't been gay his father would still be alive.

His father had always preached over dinner of the sin that was homosexuality, and it always tore his insides to shreds. According to his father, being gay was the ultimate dishonor. It shamed yourself, it hurt your friends, and most importantly...it hurt your family.

Marco had never really listened to his father. Until now.

People were rising to their feet now and making their slow way to the exits. The eulogy was over. Now it was on to the burial. Marco rose, helping his mother up gently, wiping away silent tears with the back of his free hand. He had to be strong. Like his father had taught him. For his mama. Because his father was gone.

Stepping through the big oak doors and blinking owlishly in the sunlight Marco caught sight of something in the distance that almost made him violently ill.

About fifty feet away to the right was a tall and stately tree, bright yellow in color, several leaves to floating to the ground. Underneath the branches, in the shadow were a pair of strikingly blue eyes.

Dylan. His weakness. The reason he wasn't strong. The reason he had lied. The reason his father was dead.

The blonde moved from his standstill and began making his slightly hurried, nervous way over. Marco nervously signed with his hands, asking for a minute, and helped his mother into his Aunt Marie's car, telling her he would follow to the cemetery in his own car in a second.

With a soul-deep sigh he turned to Dylan.

Dylan looked Marco over, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the scraggly hair, and the dried tear tracks. He didn't know what to do. He stepped forward and took Marco in an embrace, burying his face in his hair, breathing in deeply, loving the steady heartbeat he could feel even through the layers of clothes. God how he loved this boy. He hated that look of utter turmoil in his eyes. He would gladly take it instead of him.

Pulling away Dylan's heart broke some more. Fresh tears were coursing down Marco's face. He felt Marco take his hand, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the hurt swimming in those dark eyes.

Until he felt it.

A tiny warm piece of metal being placed into his hand. Dylan cast a bewildered look at Marco then down to his palm where a thin band glinted up in the pale autumn sunlight.

Dylan gasped and threw his eyes back up to meet Marco's, where the silent tears still fell, but a cold look of determination had leeched in. It frightened him.

"I've got to go." said the dark teen emotionlessly, coldly. Marco made to leave but Dylan caught him by the wrist, forcing him to look back into his anguished face.

"I-I don't understand." Dylan whispered, his voice cracked and broken.

A cold burst of wind swept down, lifting their hair and causing goose bumps to rise on their skin. They stared at each other for several minutes, barely breathing, weeping silently, being shoved by people still leaving the funeral home, never breaking eye contact.

Finally, after the eternal quiet, Marco gently took his hand away. "I'm going to be late for my father's burial." and turned on his heel towards the parking lot.

Dylan stared after him unbelieving. Clutching the ring in his hand tighter, he brought his hands up to his face. He began crying in earnest, shoulders shaking, breathing coming out in sharp gasps.

Marco had given back the promise ring.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kayli Granberg-- no, he's not out yet. That's the main reason he's having these problems. :)

anjel919-- No, not evil! XD. This is just my lame attempt at drama. Anyway, no he won't turn straight....but he'll kinda not be...anything.

Reviews are nice. They are pretty and shiny. I like to snuggle them. ::snuggles reviews::