Title: Something New
Rating: PG-13 for themes and language
Characters: In this chapter: Marco, Dylan, Marco's parents, Carlos, Paige, Ellie, Sean, Jay, Towerz, Tom
Pairings: Marco/Dylan, Spinner/Paige, Ellie/Sean, not sure of any others.
Disclaimer: I don't even live in the great country of Canada.
Author's Note: Can you guys picture Dylan crying? The first scene I was slightly doubtful about, because Dylan just does not seem like a crier to me. However, I thought if he was truly in love with a guy, and his heart was broken, he'd shed a few tears, right? Yeah so there's my dilemma of the week.
ANYWAY thanks everyone for the reviews! They were all wonderful! :-) However I was told it was starting to not sound like Ellie, and so if anyone wants to offer any advice on how to sound more like her, that'd be great.
So I've decided to kill off Marco in this chapter. What can I say; he was getting on my nerves. It'll be a brutal death, don't worry. Haaa just kidding. No deaths… yet. :O Also, I'd like to remind people that the only Italian I know comes from the translator at dictionarydotcom, so if I did something wrong or whatever, feel free to tell me.
Okay, I'm sorry. I know this is turning into a long author's note, but oh well. I have a plotline with Craig and Marco coming up. I don't know, you guys might think it's stupid. You'll probably think it's unrealistic. But I have that in there for a reason, which you'll find out next chapter (if you haven't already guessed it) so don't flame just 'cause that, alright? Thanks.
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A few hours later, Paige was exhausted from dancing, and she had a headache from the music. So she gathered up Spinner, Craig, and Jimmy and told them to end the party - and fast. The guys automatically started sending everyone home, and though it took a while because of some resisters, eventually everyone was gone.
Not long after that, the three boys departed and Paige dragged her feet upstairs, towards her brother's room. She stopped outside the door, remembering that she hadn't seen Marco leave, and that the two could be doing something she shouldn't walk in on right there. She knocked twice, quietly but loud enough to be heard, but received no reply.
"Dyl?" she asked, pressing her ear to the wooden door.
"Go away Paige," he said in an oddly strained voice.
After several years of living with her old brother, she knew this was an invite into his room. She opened the door slowly, and saw Dylan was sitting on his bed and staring off into space. She nearly gasped at the sight of him; his eyes were bloodshot and he had a faraway look on his face. This wasn't the Dylan she knew. At first she assumed the redness in his eyes was from alcohol, but once she drew nearer she could see his face was wet.
"Dylan… you're crying," she said, blatantly stating the obvious. He sniffed but didn't say anything. "What's wrong?" she went on, concerned. "Did something happen?"
Still, he said nothing.
"Look, Dyl, whatever it is, you can tell me," she pried, sitting on the bed next to him.
"I screwed things up, Paige," he said softly, putting his head in his hands and letting out a slight sob. This kind of scared Paige; she hadn't seen her brother cry since he'd come out however many years ago, and even then it wasn't like this.
"What happened?"
"I… I was an idiot. A jerk." He sniffed quietly, and she waited for him to continue. "He broke up with me."
"What?!" she said loudly, jumping up into a standing position. Her eyes were as round as nickels. "He… what… why?"
"It was my fault. I pressured him… he wasn't ready… I wasn't listening to him…" He looked up at his little sister, agony and pain completely visible in his face. "I've never felt like this about anyone before. I've never gotten so torn up about a guy. I don't know why I'm like this…"
"I do," she replied truthfully.
"Why?"
"Because you love him, Dyl."
He sniffed one more time, and looked up at her. "You're right. I do love him."
She'd known this for a long time; the way his face lit up whenever he saw Marco, the way he talked about him so excitedly, the way he'd come to her room just to tell her something cute Marco had done that day - all the signs pointed to love. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and told him, "Then you've got to get him back."
"I can't. He hates me, Paige. He thinks I'm the biggest jerk in the world." He wiped the tears off of his face as a new batch filled his eyes.
"You've got to apologize. I'm almost positive he's in love with you too. Just say some cheesy line, put on your best pouty face, and then go on to making out with him." She giggled, and Dylan even managed to laugh a little bit.
"Thanks Paige," he said with a sad smiling, hugging his little sister.
"Anytime. Now, you should get some sleep. I'm gonna go to bed too. Goodnight."
"Night." She turned off the light as she left the room, and he rubbed his eyes and lay back on his bed. He automatically thought of Marco, and he began planning his apology.
-----
"You did what?" Ellie said into the telephone, hardly able to believe her ears.
"I broke up with Dylan," Marco repeated, his voice coming out hollow and lifeless. After he had finished writing his latest journal entry the previous night, he had gotten into bed fully clothed and stared at the ceiling for hours. It wasn't until the sun started to rise before he fell into an uneasy sleep, and he'd woken up not much later. His eyes were red and puffy, but he didn't particularly care about his appearance just then. He had called Ellie right after he woke up.
"But… why?" she said softly, concerned for her best friend.
"It's a long story," he said, not really wanting to relive it.
"I'm not going anywhere."
Sighing, he began telling her the story - the whole story. How they got to the dance, how Dylan started drinking, how they danced together and then walked upstairs… His voice began to get shaky. "W-we went to his room and…"
"Oh my God," Ellie interrupted him. "You… you guys… had sex?!"
"No, Ellie!" he said quickly, nose scrunching up slightly. "That's… that's the problem. He wanted to… I didn't want to… The only reason he was with me is 'cause I'm gay." Tears, once again, threatened to spill over. A few escaped ones strolled down his cheek. "He… he was going to have sex with me and leave me for the next kid that came out of the closet."
There was a silence on the other line. Then, "You don't really believe that, do you?"
"What?" Marco said, a bit confused and irritated. "I was there, El. I know what happened." He was actually sounding a little on the defensive side.
"I know you were. But you said it yourself, he was drunk," she pointed out. "Sometimes you have to forgive people when they've been drinking. They always regret things afterward."
"You're supposed to be on my side," he said weakly.
"I am on your side, Marco."
"It doesn't feel like it. Look, I have to go."
"Marco…"
"Bye." He hung up the phone, feeling worse than when he picked it up. Should he forgive Dylan? He just wasn't sure. The phone suddenly began ringing again, scaring him out of his wits, which caused him to jump at least a foot into the air.
It rang once, twice, three times before his mother picked it downstairs. "Marco!" she called, and he appeared at the top of the stairs. "Phone for you," she told her son. His father, who was also in the room, grumbled something under his breath.
"Who is it?" he asked.
"Dylan," she replied, smiling and holding the phone out.
His fake smile melted. "Tell him I'm too busy to talk." Both his mother and his father looked at him, eyebrows raised. His dad, however, has a small smirk on his face.
His mom brought the phone back up to her ear. "Dylan? I'm sorry; Marco can't come to the phone right now. Sure I will. Okay. You too. Goodbye." She hung up the phone, and gave her son a strange look. "Dylan says he needs to see you and talk to you about something. He says he'll be at the Dot at three if you want to meet him there."
"Okay," he said, somewhat gloomily.
"Are you going to go?"
"No," he said shortly. Of course he wasn't. Things were over between the two. And that's the way Marco wanted it… right?
"Why not?" his mother pressed, and he was starting to get annoyed.
"I just don't want to!"
"You and…" his father said slowly, almost scared to say the blonde boy's name. "You and Dylan… you two no longer seeing each other?" His smirk was widening slightly.
"No, Pa, we're not."
"But why, miele?" his ma asked, concern in her voice. He appreciated it, but that didn't mean he wanted it. He really just wished they'd leave him alone and let him go back to mourning in his darkened bedroom.
"Just because, Ma. I don't like him any more."
"Quello è il mio ragazzo!" his dad said excitedly, patting him hard on the back. "You don't need no fruity boy! You settle down with a nice girl, no more thinking of boys. We get you a girlfriend! Carlos will help!" He was actually smiling now.
"Pa!" he interrupted his dad's mindless babble. "No! No. I'm still gay. I still like boys. Just not Dylan." The smile slid right off his father's face, and he began muttering Italian phrases under his breath gruffly.
"I'm going back upstairs, okay, Ma?"
"Sure. But Marco?"
"Yes?" He turned back around, somewhat startled to see she was looking at him very seriously.
"Maybe you should give Dylan another chance."
"I'll think about it," he lied, trudging back up the steps. When he got to his room, he closed the door and sat on his bed. He really couldn't think of anything to do but feel sorry for himself, and he was beginning to get bored of that. He went over to his computer and turned it on, and then went on to logging on his email. 2 New Emails! the screen told him.
The first one was a chain letter from Heather Sinclaire that told him if he didn't forward it on to thirty people, he would never be kissed. Snorting, he deleted it and moved on to the second one. His heart started thumping when he saw whom it was from. Dylan.
Marco,
I know you're mad at me, and you deserve to be. But I am really, really sorry. Please, just listen to me. I wasn't thinking. If I could take it back, I'd do it in a heartbeat.
Just talk to me, please. Email me back or call or, if you want, meet me at the Dot at three. It's important. Please.
--Dylan
He read the email two more times, frowning a little more with every line. Now he really was in a conflict… what should he do? A part of him was still burning with anger. He didn't want to see Dylan. So he moved the curser up and deleted it.
Feeling even sulkier than before, he turned off the computer and sat on his bed. He stayed there, for the rest of the day, even through dinnertime. He eventually turned on his stomach, pressing his face into his pillow, and fell asleep, dreading the next day - when he would return to school.
[Journal entry 12]
Marco del Rossi
It's day number two after me and Dylan broke up. I really hate this feeling - if you call it that. It's more like not having any feeling at all. Like my whole body is completely numb.
He called today, and sent me an email. He tried to apologize, but I guess I wouldn't let him. I deserve to be angry, right? This is HIS fault, not mine, right? I don't know.
He wanted to meet me at the Dot. I should've gone. I wanted to go. I didn't go.
Some part of me can't forgive him. I want to forgive him, but I just can't. What am I supposed to do? I don't know. I'm going to lay down again. I haven't eaten since last night before the party, but I'm not hungry. I didn't sleep well either, but I'm not tired. Like I said, I just feel sort of numb.
Until next time.
[/Journal]
-----
Dylan sucked the last of the coke from his cup out, and then went up to the counter to order another one. Spinner, who had been promoted to cashier recently, looked at him weirdly.
"Gimme another one, Spin," Dylan said dully. He looked at the clock; it was 3:27. He knew by now that Marco wasn't going to show, but he wasn't ready to leave. He had hoped that either his email or phone call would sway Marco's decision to come, but obviously it hadn't.
"You've already had six," Spinner told him, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah," he replied absentmindedly. "Why don't you give me some fries too?"
"He's not coming," Spinner said flatly.
Cheeks reddening slightly, Dylan looked down. It really was time to face the truth. "Yeah. You're right. I've got hockey at four anyway…" He put the empty coke glass down and started towards the door, but stopped suddenly. "Um, if Marco does show up…"
"He's not going to, Dylan."
"Right. Bye."
He left the restaurant, feeling worse than before, and climbed into his car. He drove to the hockey arena with his gear, and walked into the locker room. A bunch of guys from the team were already in there, getting dressed and talking. Some of the guys hurriedly threw towels around their waists, not wanting to be checked out or anything by the team's fag, but instead of saying anything, he just went over to his friends.
Normally he would have cheerfully greeted them, but today he just put his bag down and started to get dressed. Right away his friends noticed he wasn't his usual self.
They all gave him odd looks, which he just shrugged off. Finally, Jeff asked him concernedly, "Dyl, buddy, what's up?"
"Nothing," Dylan replied monotonously.
"C'mon, man, what's going on?" he pressed, but Dylan just sadly shook his head.
"Is it your mom?" Scott asked. "Paige? Marco?" He gave a little involuntary shake when he heard Marco's name, feeling like his heart was breaking all over again. The other guys finally understood, and they all sympathetically looked at him.
"What happened?" Jeff asked.
"He broke up with me," he nearly whispered, continuing to put on his hockey gear as though it was just a nonchalant matter for him. He hated being stared at like that, so he dipped his head down as he pretended to tie his skates. They were already tied.
"That sucks," Brad said.
"Sorry, dude," Michael added.
Scott, however, wanted to cheer his friend up a little more. "Hey, no big loss right? Other fish in the sea. He was just a little Grade Ten. He's a loser." Something about the way he said that pissed Dylan off completely. He stoop quickly, grabbed Scott's shirt, and shoved him into the lockers.
"He is not a loser!" With that, he stormed out of the locker rooms, leaving his shocked teammates behind, staring after.
That practice was the worst one Dylan had in a long time. It seemed everything he did was wrong. It didn't help that he couldn't take his mind off of Marco. His coach was yelling at him for everything it seemed. He finished last in his laps. Before long, his coach had had enough.
"Michalchuk!" he yelled, throwing his clipboard onto the ice hard. "Come here!" Head drooping slightly, Dylan skated over to him. "You've missed every open goal! You're nearly tripping over your own two skates! What is going on with you?!"
"I… I don't know, Coach. I'm sorry," he offered weakly.
"You're sorry? Michalchuk, we play against Sechrest in two days! I'm depending on you!" he shouted, waving his hands wildly above his head.
"I know, Coach. I'm just… sort of out of it today. I'll be ready for the game, I promise," he said, not knowing if he would be able to keep his promise.
"You better. I would hate to have to bench you, especially with all of these college scouts buzzing around. Keep playing like normal, kid, and you'll be going places. Bigger, better places. Understand?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now, why don't you take the rest of practice off to go clear your head?"
Appreciative, Dylan gathered his stuff and drove home. He felt like he was in somewhat of a trance. Finally, he got to his house, where he walked in and headed up to his room, having nothing better to do.
"Dyl?" Paige asked, coming out of her room with a confused look on her face. "What are you doing home so early? I didn't think you're practice ended for another forty-five minutes."
"Yeah… Coach let me out early 'cause I wasn't feeling too good," he replied truthfully, frowning.
Paige, also frowning, gave her older brother a small hug. "He didn't show up, huh?"
"Nope. I was there for at least an hour too."
"Don't worry, he'll soon be crawling back to you," she said with a smile.
"No," he said dejectedly. "I may be hopeful but I'm not stupid. Marco's definitely over me. I'm just gonna go lay down. Maybe finish up some of my homework."
"Why don't you try calling home one last time?" Paige advised him.
Sighing, he ran his hands through his hair. "I… I might. I don't think he wants to talk to me, though."
"Just try." He nodded and said he would, and then went into his room. Picking up the phone, he punched in Marco's number and then collapsed on his bed as it rang. On the second ring, someone picked up.
"Hello?" Great. Just great. It was Carlos. "Is Marco there?" Dylan said, trying to disguise his voice.
"Who's this?" Carlos asked him suspiciously from the other line.
"Dylan."
The oldest Del Rossi sibling let out a small snort. He'd overheard his little brother telling his parents he was no longer talking to Michalchuk, which was absolutely perfect with him. He'd even decided he'd try to help Marco come back to his senses a date a girl. Marco didn't know that yet, though. "Sorry, Fag-boy, he doesn't want to talk to you."
"Please, Carlos," Dylan said wearily, disgusted to hear himself pleading. "Just let me talk to him for a minute."
"Hey, queer, what part of no don't you understand? Don't you have a little boy to be blowing?" His voice was sharp and vindictive.
He hung up the phone violently, and pressed his face into his pillow. Why, why did he have to drink? Why did he have to be such an idiot? He couldn't ever imagine himself being happier than when he was with Marco, but now he'd blown it. All for a little bit of alcohol.
He really didn't want to go to school the next day.
-----
Marco purposely took his time getting ready the next morning. He slowly showered, slowly got dressed, and slowly ate his breakfast. He knew he would arrive there with just a minute or less to spare before the bell would ring. That was ideal - he would have no time to run into anyone, namely Dylan, and even if he did, he had a perfectly liable excuse to get away.
His mom drove him to school, and he raced in the building, through the thinning crowds, and straight to class. His first class of the day was English, with Ms. Kwan. He remembered her mentioning them starting a new project that day, but he could only remember vague details.
Right when he sat in his seat, the bell rang and Ms. Kwan began teaching. "Today, as I've mentioned, everyone is going to partner off. With their partner, they will draw a type of play from the basket. Then, come up to my desk and get the play that is intended for you. In one week, next Monday, everyone will perform their short plays. So please, now, everyone partner up."
Marco remained seated, but Craig sauntered up to him. "Hey, Marco, wanna be my partner?"
"Sure," Marco said, shrugging slightly. He watched everyone else pair off: Paige with Spinner, Hazel with Jimmy, Ellie with Ash, and so on. The basket was passed around, until it stopped in front of Craig and Marco. Closing his eyes, Craig blindly felt around through the scraps of paper and pulled one out. He stared at it for a few seconds, silent.
"Well?" the Italian boy asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, we got a romance."
Shaking his head, Marco stared at him. "What?"
"I said we got a ro -"
"I heard you. It's just…" He felt ridiculous. How had he ended up with a romance, with one of his good guy friends? Craig wasn't looking as uncomfortable as he should have.
"Ms. Kwan, can we switch?" someone called in a whiny voice from the back of the room. "I got a tragedy."
"No, I'm afraid there will be no switching."
"But… Craig and I got a romance…" Marco said, a little baffled.
"I'm sorry, Marco. No switching."
Craig, in the meanwhile, went up to the desk and Ms. Kwan handed him a play. He absentmindedly walked back to where Marco was sitting wordlessly, skimming the play with his eyes. "This is going to be hard to memorize." Marco couldn't believe he was more freaked out about this than Craig was.
"So… you're okay with this?" he asked slowly, raising an eyebrow.
"With what?"
"A romance!" he impatiently replied. "You know, I'm gay… you're straight…"
"So what? Better you than with Spinner." He then grew a little quieter as he flipped to the back page. "There's a kiss."
"R-really?" He'd only kissed one guy before… and now he was expected to kiss Craig, in front of his whole class? No way. No possible way.
He went straight to Kwan's desk, put his hands on the desk and looked her in the eye, as if to tell her he meant business. "Ms. Kwan, there's no way Craig and I can perform this. There's a kiss in it!"
She looked at him seriously. "Marco, acting is not only reading lines. It's often just giving the appearance of something." Understanding a little bit, he went back to where Craig was sitting.
"You know," Craig announced, "I think this is going to be fun." Marco raised an eyebrow. "No, seriously. I mean, sure one of us will have to play a girl," he threw a meaningful look at the other boy, "but there are some pretty good one-liners in here. It's kind of a romantic comedy."
"I'm not playing the girl," Marco stated.
"But you're shorter."
"I'm not playing the girl," he insisted.
"Your hair is shorter, too!"
"So?"
"So it'd be easier for you to wear a wig."
"Craig, I get made fun of enough for being gay. Do you really think I want to prance around in a dress in front of everyone?"
"How about just a skirt then?"
"Craig!" Marco said, looking at him with wide eyes.
Sighing, the curly-haired boy backed down a bit. "All right, all right. I'll play the girl."
"Thanks," Marco said with a smile. Now knowing that acting the kiss was going to be easier than actually doing it, and that he got to play the male, he felt a bit better about the play. He actually felt a little bit better in general.
"So, want to rehearse at my house tonight?" Craig asked.
"Well, actually, my parents and Carlos are going to be gone to Carlos' soccer game, so you can come over to my house. We'll have the whole house to ourselves. We can order pizza or whatever," Marco suggested.
"Great. See you tonight, then," he said as the bell rang.
Marco gathered his books and left the classroom. Right when he did though, his body connected with another, and both students were sent crashing to the ground. He started to apologize, until he looked up. He let his sentence drag out with a slight intake of breath.
"Marco…" the other boy said, looking at him intimately.
"Dylan."
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Italian translations:
Miele - honey
Quello è il mio ragazzo! - That's my boy!
Like I said, I'm not sure if those are right. I hope so.
I don't really know how I feel about this chapter. It's definitely not one of my best, is it? You all probably think I'm stupid now, for the Craig and Marco scene. I'm sure at a normal school, the teacher wouldn't let two guys perform a romance together, but this was just an idea I had. Sorry if you hate it (or me).
Please review. I don't care what you say, just review. :D
