Title: Something New

Rating: PG-13 for themes and language

Characters: In this chapter: Marco, Dylan, Marco's parents, Carlos, Paige

Pairings: Marco/Dylan, Spinner/Paige, Ellie/Sean, not sure of any others.

Disclaimer: Not a thing belongs to me. How I wish, though.

Author's Note: Thank you EVERYONE, for your remarkable reviews. I love love love them all, so much. This chapter was a lot of fun to write, and it came easily. I hope you like it. Either way, review, pleasepleaseplease. I dunno how well I wrote this chapter. I'm leaving it up to you to tell me. And once again, thanks for reading!

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"Thank God it's Friday," Ellie moaned, wrinkling her nose distastefully at the textbooks that were piled in front of her. Clearly oblivious to her, Marco only made a little humming noise.

"What're you doing this weekend?" she pressed on, raising an eyebrow at her best friend's lack of attention. She was starting to get annoyed; all day long Marco had been zoned out, not listening to anything she said. When Marco didn't reply, she snapped loudly, "Marco?! Earth to Marco."

His head jerked in her direction, as though he was just noticing she was there for the first time. "What'd you say?" he asked apologetically.

"What are you doing this weekend?" she repeated, shutting her locker door. Marco's gaze drifted to the tiled floor, then back up at Ellie.

"Actually," he said in a near whisper, "I… I've decided to tell my parents."

"What?!" Ellie shrieked, and wincing, Marco shushed her quickly. "Sorry," she said, more quietly. "But… why didn't you tell me this?"

"Well, the truth is… I'm not sure I can do it." Ashamed, his cheeks reddened. "But I sort of promised Dylan I would."

"Dylan? So you guys are officially…" she said, a grin tugging at her lips.

"No!" He hurriedly replied, but he couldn't resist smiling as well. "We've only gone on a date once…"

"Have you kissed?" she continued, hungry for information.

"No!" he repeated once more. "But…" She looked at him, eyes flashing. "We did hold hands." With a somewhat muffled screech, she squeezed his hand tightly and he laughed.

"That's awesome Marco."

"Yeah, it was pretty cool. And completely nerve-wracking. And I told him I wanna come out. There's no way I could do that." Biting his lip, his eyes once more returned to the floor. "Today, actually. I'm supposed to tell them today."

"I think you should definitely do it," Ellie informed him, nodding. "They have to know sooner or later. I mean, I think by the time you're forty they'll figure out the guy you're living and always with is not just a friend." Marco chuckled slightly.

"If I could be so lucky. Anyway, enough about me. What's going on with you and Sean?"

Ellie blushed, smiling slightly. Skipping a beat, she shrugged her shoulders. "Well… we're sort of, you know… um, together."

"Really?" He flashed her a grin. "That's great."

"Yeah, he's a really cool guy." Slamming their locker doors shut simultaneously, the two began walking down the hallway of a thinning group of people.

"How're you getting home?" Ellie asked, coming to an abrupt stop right outside of the school.

As though answering her question, a voice shouted out, "Marco!" They both turned around, to find Dylan leaning against his car. With his usual lopsided grin, he shoved his curls out of his eyes. Marco's knees buckled slightly.

"Wow. How romantic," Ellie whispered, giving Marco's hand a final squeeze. He, in return, chuckled lightly, still utterly nervous. "Good luck, Marco."

"Thanks, El," he managed to choke out. She went off her own way. Marco meant to walk over to Dylan's car, but his legs didn't seem to be working. He wasn't sure if he was more nervous about being with Dylan or coming out to his parents. It was a lose-lose situation, he at last decided. Managing to finally stumble clumsily over to the car, Marco tried to smile. He failed miserably.

"Excited?" joked Dylan as Marco climbed into the vehicle.

"Thrilled," Marco mumbled, his stomach somersaulting. He was nauseated from the nerves, but they soothed a little when Dylan began speaking.

"Trust me, after you come out, life seems like a bowl of cherries." Eyes slightly wide, Marco looked at the older boy. "Well, no, not really," Dylan continued, shaking his head. "But it can't get much worse." Marco sighed, and Dylan went on thoughtfully, "It could get worse actually. I remember one time in hockey these guys from Lofton doubled up on me. Broke some ribs. It was pretty painful." Laughing slightly and jerking out of his stupor, he looked at Marco. "I'm not helping, am I? Sorry, I ramble when I'm nervous."

"You're nervous?" Marco said incredulously.

Dylan laughed more. "Yeah, of course. This isn't going to be a walk in the park for me either. I doubt your parents will take very kindly to me. Speaking of which, about how big is your dad?" he asked jokingly.

"Big enough to murder me when I tell him," Marco muttered, shifting his legs under him. A silence washed over the vehicle, with Dylan sneaking looks at him every few seconds. He wished the car ride to his home was longer; it seemed merely seconds before the car pulled into the driveway.

"We're here," Dylan announced. This being stated, neither boy even made a motion to get out of the car. They didn't even unbuckle their seatbelts.

"Mhm."

"Are you ready?"

"No," Marco replied truthfully, opening the car door. "But let's go."

"Where's Carlos?" Dylan asked, almost fearfully.

"Soccer practice," he answered, gulping. He hoped Dylan didn't think less of him for choosing a time when his brother wasn't home. But Dylan only nodded.

They went in through the front door, both uneasily. Marco's mother was in the living room, comfortably resting on the couch and reading a book. She smiled as her son and his friend entered the room, and stood up. "Hello Marco," she said warmly, kissing him on the cheek. "Hello, Dylan." She nodded to the blonde.

"Hi, Mrs. Del Rossi," Dylan replied formally.

"Hi Mama," Marco echoed, kind of emptily.

"Are you okay, honey?" his mother said, picking up on his behavior. She immediately put her hand to Marco's forehead. "You do feel kind of hot, but I don't think you have a fever. Maybe you should go to bed…" she continued, with genuine motherly concern.

"No, I'm fine, Mama," he said, forcing a smile onto his lips. "Where's Dad?" The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could stop feeling like his guts were about to spill out of his mouth.

"He should be home any minute now," she replied, and as if on cue, his father walked in through the door. Dylan, meanwhile, was standing off to the side and trying to keep to himself. Marco's father wasn't as warm as his mother; in fact, he was every bit as sarcastic as Carlos. But Marco loved him and he was undoubtedly a good father.

"Hey Marco," he said, laying his briefcase down on the ground. Marco returned the greeting. "Who's this?" He motioned to Dylan with his head, collapsing on the couch by his wife.

Somewhat tensely, Dylan extended a hand and said, "Dylan M-Michalchuk, sir."

His eyes widened slightly; no doubt had he heard his oldest son complaining about Marco hanging out with "the school faggot". He wasn't very tolerant to gays either. "The f -" He stopped mid-sentence, seeing Marco's eyes slightly bulge out. Dylan also faltered, and he changed his wording immediately, "The hockey player, no doubt?"

"Y-yes sir."

"You… play well," Marco's father nodded, turning on the television. Dylan embarrassedly muttered a 'thank you, sir'.

"Why don't you boys go up to your room and play?" Mrs. Del Rossi said sweetly, and Marco shut his eyes.

"Okay. Uh, Dylan?" Marco waited for a look of disappointment from his comrade, but received none. Instead, the two tramped up the steps and into Marco's room.

"I can't do it," Marco said immediately.

"You can too."

"No, I can't. It would break my mother's heart. And my father would break my body. Into millions of little pieces." Dylan cocked his head at Marco, giving him the you're being ridiculous look. Secretly, though, he thought Marco's father was very capable of that.

"I… I'm gonna go get something to drink," Marco said, leaving the room. It was too uncomfortable being enclosed in such a little space with Dylan.

As he retraced his path back downstairs, he could hear his mom and dad conversing in the living room. He crouched behind a couch silently, as he heard the two voices go back and forth.

"It's just not normal." That was his father's voice.

"He's a nice boy," his mother hissed back.

"I don't care how nice he is! For all we know, that is contagious. I don't want Marco hanging around him."

"Listen to what you are saying! It is not contagious, and anyway, what does it matter? He is Marco's friend, and I am not letting you take that away from him."

"Fine," his father concluded gruffly, angry that he hadn't gotten his way. The talking ended, and the television volume was turned up. Feeling like he was going to cry, Marco turned and walked slowly back to his room. He had a new determination - just to throw it in his father's face. But then again, his father would probably blame Dylan.

"Hey, took you long enough," Dylan said when he returned to the room. He was sprawled on the bed, and Marco almost fainted from the fact that Dylan was in his bed. Or he would've, if he didn't feel like Mt. St. Helens had just erupted inside his body. "Where're the drinks?" Dylan went on, tilting his head and looking concerned.

"Uh… uh…" he stuttered, and then turned away. He quickly dabbed at his eyes, praying Dylan wouldn't catch on to the wetness. Too late. Dylan appeared by his side in a split second.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Dylan asked in his most gentle, soothing voice.

Choked up, Marco was afraid if he replied he would start crying. And that was absolutely the last thing he wanted. Tenderly, Dylan stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Marco. He did it slowly; to make sure it was all right with Marco. He stiffened at the touch, and Dylan was about to let go. But then, he leaned into the hug and held on for what seemed to be dear life.

They stayed in that position for a few more seconds, but when Marco pulled away he was much more calm.

"Are you going to tell them?" Dylan asked uncertainly.

The question hung heavy in the air, and Marco had no reply for it. Finally, he took a few deep breaths and looked at Dylan. His hair was falling into his eyes, much like it always was, but this time he made no attempt to brush it back. His vivid blue eyes were narrowed slightly, filled with concern. His mouth was twitched into half a smirk, half a frown, much like it always was when he was worried. Marco knew what he had to do, no matter how painful.

"Yes," he said quietly, opening the door to his bedroom once more.

Dylan smiled widely, following the shorter boy out the door. They once again entered the living room, where a shifty, bare silence lay. His mother and father were on separate couches now. Marco was shaking intensely with fear as his parents looked up at him.

"What is it, son?" His father completely disregarded Dylan standing next to him.

"Um…" He looked at Dylan, for some help. Dylan looked at him in a way that clearly meant just do it. "I… I need to talk to you guys."

"Shoot."

"Well, uh, see… recently, Ellie and I broke up," he began, getting a mild nudge from Dylan.

"That's horrible!" his mother gasped, standing up and pulling him into a rough hug. "You must be devastated."

"Uh… that's not all, Mama."

"She's not pregnant," his mother said, her eyes as big as tennis balls and her face paling quickly.

"No!" he said quickly. "No. Of course not. Um, well, the reason we broke up is, uh, 'cause I really wasn't into her, you know?"

"You were cheating on her?" his dad asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No! I… didn't have feelings towards her anymore. Or, um… anyone, really."

"What's your point, Marco?"

"Uh…" Marco began shaking again. He had no idea what to say.

"Maybe Dylan should head on home now," his father said when no one spoke.

"No, Dad. He's staying. He's… he's my friend."

"Dylan, would you excuse us for a second, please?" Mr. Del Rossi spoke, in fake politeness. Still silent, Dylan nodded his head and began to leave the room.

"Dyl, stop. Dad, whatever you have to say to me you can say it in front of him," he argued, his cheeks heating up while he grew more furious. His Dad was just like Carlos in every aspect: big, strong, and narrow-minded.

"Fine," he replied nastily. He turned to Dylan, and though Marco's mother was tugging at her husband's arm, he went on a sickeningly sweet voice, "Stay away from my son."

Dylan had no idea what to do. What was he supposed to respond to that with?

"Why?" Marco challenged him, drawing his arms up across his chest. He already knew the answer, of course.

"Because I said so."

"That's not a reason."

"Fine," he repeated once more. "Want to know why? Because he's gay, Marco!" A trail of hatred washed across Mr. Del Rossi's face, and Marco loathed him for it. Dylan, on the other hand, didn't even flinch. He'd heard this way too many times before.

"Well maybe I am too," Marco said quietly, with a shuddery breath.

Both of his parents froze in their tracks, absolutely silent. Dylan managed to keep a smile off of his face, but he was really fighting it. And Marco was shaken up completely; had those words really come out of his mouth?! His dad was going to kill him. He would never make it on a second date with Dylan.

"What did you say?" His father asked just as quietly, in a hissing, cold voice that made the hairs on Marco's neck stand straight up. He'd heard Marco perfectly, of course, but he refused to believe it.

"I said I was - I am gay."

"I knew this would happen," he spat, his voice now loud and fearful. He advanced towards Dylan. "You turned my son queer," he yelled hoarsely. Dylan quickly took a step back.

"No," he choked out. "Marco… he's - he's always been gay. This is probably hard for you to understand, but he's still your son. He's still the same Marco." By the look on his face, Dylan doubted his little psychology plan was working.

When Mr. Del Rossi took another step towards Dylan, and Dylan had backed away as far as he could and was flattened against the wall, no one knew exactly what to do. Marco should have said something, but nothing was functioning correctly.

When Dylan thought the worst had come, Mrs. Del Rossi had appeared by her husband's side. "Leave him alone," she ordered, her voice stern and gravelly. The last time Marco had heard his mother's voice anywhere near as cold as that was when Carlos had given Marco a surprise haircut in the middle of the night.

"Your son just told you he's a faggot," he responded agitatedly, his voice smooth and round. "How can you not be upset?"

"We don't to get to choose what Marco is," she said. "And neither does he."

Shaking his head, Mr. Del Rossi pitched a look of revulsion at his young son, but then turned and walked out of the room. Marco and Dylan both resumed breathing.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Marco whispered, tears falling freely down his face. With a small smile, she took his head in her hands.

"Listen to me, Marco. Gay or straight, I will always love you." She brought Marco's face towards her, and kissed his forehead lightly. "I'm proud of you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he said back, wiping away his tears, somewhat self-conscious at the fact Dylan was in the room.

She released Marco, and then walked over to Dylan. Leaning over, she gave him a small kiss on the cheek as well. "You treat my son right." He grinned broadly. With that, she traced her husband's trail up the stairs and left the two boys alone.

"You know, I'm proud of you too," Dylan offered. Neither made any notion to come any closer to the other.

"Thanks," he blushed, tears not ceasing. The words meant a lot to him.

"You did the right thing," Dylan went on, striding over to Marco.

"I'm not sure I did," he said, staring at the ground. "My dad… he hates me for it…"

Once again, Dylan wrapped his arms around Marco's shoulders. Marco pressed his body against Dylan's, who in return put his mouth by Marco's ear. His breath was warm, and it sent chills zapping through Marco's entire body.

Dylan put his thumb on Marco's cheek, tilting his head upwards to look at him. Neither said anything, until Dylan broke apart a bit. He wiped the tears off the other's cheek, smiling slightly.

"So, um, you ready to go watch those movies?" Dylan asked, grinning.

"Movies?" Marco echoed, puzzled. His entire body felt like it was on fire - but in a good way.

"My house? With Paige and Spinner?"

"Oh, right. Uh, yeah - I'm ready to go." Marco told his mom where he was going, and then the two headed out to Dylan's car, which was still parked in the driveway. They got in the car in silence, not sure what to say or do. Finally, Dylan reached over and grabbed Marco's hand. Their fingers laced together, and they left it like that for the rest of the ride.

[Journal entry 5]
Marco del Rossi


I did it.

I told my parents. With the help of Dylan. And their reactions… weren't that great. Well, my mama's was. She told me she was proud of me. And that she'd always love me. I kind of expected that, though. My mama's the greatest person I know. My dad, however… He didn't take it too well. I guess it was a big surprise for him. And I knew from the start he hated Dylan.

My father hates me now too. He even called me a faggot. I set myself up for disappointment, but I did not anticipate this. Carlos's reaction is going to be a million times worse. I know that.

Why, why, why can't people be a little more open to things? I have this sinking feeling in me. Like the only way to go is down. Good thing Dylan's there to lift me back up, though. We hugged today. Twice. It was really nice.

Going to his house for a small, four person party. Should be fun… especially with Spinner there.

Sigh.

[/Journal]

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A/N: Woohoo, this chapter's over! I had originally written in a kiss between the two there at the end. But… I thought it might be too early.

Sorry for the disappointment! I have some good conflict wrapped up for the kiss, and it won't be too long. So, until then… be patient!

Please review. I love getting reviews!

Thankyou!