Chapter 4

A/N: I bet you all are just dying to see Dylan again. Lol. Here you go. Let's hope the spacing works this time.

Marco quickly sat up. That boy. Dylan was here? He was in his house?

"Well, what did you tell him?" Marco asked immediately. How long had Dylan and his mother talked?

"Relax, Marco," she raised her hands in the air in her defense. "I said I'd come get you; that's all."

"Okay," he said, relieved. "Don't help me," he warned. "The door is easy to make it to."

Marco walked by his mother, careful not to step on her foot, and made it to the hallway. He made it through the first part of his trip unharmed. He walked through the short hallway, grabbing the table as the first thing in his way when he made it to the kitchen…still in one piece. He took a few more steps with his mother right behind him. He could do this easily without making Dylan even need to know he couldn't see where he was going. Unless Paige had told him, which he supposed she hadn't since she only found out they 'crashed' at lunch time. He'd probably come straight after school to see him.

"Here he is," said Mrs. Del Rossi. Dylan had no idea she was actually talking to Marco.

"So," Marco started, after his mother had walked away, "what have you got for me?" he asked, wishing he didn't have to ask.

"Uh, well…I didn't know how important this is, so I thought I'd bring it back to you, just in case. When we collided, I picked it up by mistake. I'm sorry," said Dylan, holding the notebook out to him, "I just thought it was mine."

"Oh," said Marco, silently cursing. He didn't want to look like an idiot groping the air while he tried to find the book. He sighed. "Thanks for bringing it to me," he said, smiling.

"Sure. No problem," he laughed, still holding out the book, waiting for Marco to take it. Marco tried to follow the sound of his voice to find his arm.

"Just throw the book on the ground," he told Dylan, already succeeding in making a fool of himself after he swore he wouldn't.

"Okay, then," Dylan responded, not sounding too fussed. He threw the book down on the ground just like he had been told, and Marco was able to pick it up, feeling it land by his foot.

"Well, I don't believe I've properly introduced myself. I'm Dylan," he said, holding out his hand. Honestly, why did they always do that? Couldn't they see he was sick of the hand-shaking. However, he was able to locate the hand. That wasn't the problem. It was just finding it that looked stupid.

"Is there something wrong?" Dylan asked. He must have noticed the clearly unhappy look on Marco's face.

"Not really," Marco answered. "I'm Marco."

"Nice to meet you, Marco." Honestly, Toronto and handshaking was one thing, but what was up with them and smiling? It's all they do! "So, what grade are you in, anyway?"

Oh, so he was trying to make conversation. If he noticed there was something different about Marco, he didn't mention it. Besides, Marco reminded himself, Dylan thought he was cute.

"I'm in tenth," he said, smiling as well, "The same as your sister."

"Righhht," said Dylan, holding out the word. "I'm a senior."

"Oh, I see…"said Marco. "So, you're in your last year?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," said Dylan. Marco could hear his voice becoming farther away, so he assumed he was moving. "Your house is…really nice," Dylan commented.

"Hmm," said Marco, wishing the boy would simply stop moving around so he could stop following him. "If you say so," he said, grabbing onto the couch.

"What? You don't like it?" asked Dylan, confused.

"That's…not…" Marco sighed, holding onto the wall, almost falling, but managing to keep himself in the air. "Dylan, could you please stop walking?" he didn't mean to sound rude, but he was quite frustrated.

"Sorry," he said immediately. "I tend to walk around a lot." 'Great' Marco thought to himself. 'He was talking with a walker'

"No, I'm sorry," Marco apologized. "It's just that…I didn't want to seem…weak by falling," Marco admitted, feeling weak just by saying it.

"Why?" Dylan asked, confused. "I don't get it."

Marco looked down at his feet, willing his eyes to just see. Why couldn't he just see them? The most frustrating thing was that he could hold his eyes open just like anyone else and stare, but nothing would come out of it. He wanted to freaking see Dylan! Was that too much to ask? He just wanted to see him for just a moment.

"Just do me a favor. Can you tell me what you look like?" he pleaded, reaching his arm out to touch Dylan's chest.

Dylan felt quite awkward. "You want me to explain the way I look?" he asked. "Why?"

"Because I want to know," Marco whispered. "Please, I'm just curious."

"This is a little weird, Marco," Dylan laughed, becoming a bit nervous. He didn't understand.

"Fine, whatever. Don't. Just go, then," Marco said, ignoring how hurt he was that his attempts to see Dylan weren't helping, and Dylan didn't seem to get how much he just wanted to know.

"Marco, I'm sorry," said Dylan, not wanting to have Marco disliking him after knowing him for barely ten minutes. "You can't see me?"

"Just get out!" yelled Marco, frustrated. "Really, it doesn't matter. Thank you for bringing me my notebook. It was sweet of you," he didn't want to get upset over something that probably seemed like nothing to Dylan.

"No, I'll explain," said Dylan, "if you still want, that is."

"Yes," Marco sighed, feeling ashamed for trying to kick him out already.

"Well, this is so weird. I'm a blond…(male blonde, female blonde. I just learned this! Lol.) I have blue-green eyes. My aunt constantly tells me I look like my sister."

"I don't know what she looks like, either." 'Damn,' Marco inwardly cursed. How could he have been so stupid? Dylan could have lost it was some stupid thing Marco wanted from him, but now he'd figure out…Marco must be blind. Truthfully, Marco was sure Paige was going to tell him, anyhow, but it was still nice to know he had some time to seem like a strong, normal boy. Now, Dylan knew he needed…help.

"I see," said Dylan. Dylan sighed. "Listen, I feel like an idiot for asking you this, but are you blind?"

Marco laughed. "You have to ask?" He'd give up the act. At least, if he fell, Dylan would understand. He still wished, though, that Dylan didn't have to know he was…impaired.

"Well, now I know," said Dylan, feeling quite stupid. "I do recall you were looking quite stunned after I hit you in the hallway," he laughed.

"Oh, that had nothing to do with the blindness," Marco fell back into his teasing personality. "I was just overcome with your incredible weight. You, by the way, almost crushed me."

"Think you're funny, huh?" asked Dylan, laughing. "Well, I could make a few comments on you too, but I won't."

"And why is that?" asked Marco, smiling.

"I'm quite the gentleman, of course," he laughed, taking a seat on the couch.

"Of course," Marco agreed. "I'm going to walk over to sit on the couch, okay? Don't help me."

Dylan nodded, then, remembering Marco couldn't hear him, he muttered, "Sure."

Marco closed his eyes tightly, praying he wouldn't fall in front of this boy. He had no idea what he really thought of him, but he was hoping not to make the impression any worse than it may have already been.

It made him angry that there was nothing to hold onto since he was in the middle of the room. He knew he was getting closer because his leg had touched the coffee table. Just a few more steps and…the couch! He sat down, realizing he was in close proximity to Dylan, and was quite proud of himself. He hadn't crashed once when there was nothing he could even grab.

"Were you born blind?" Dylan asked. He couldn't help but wonder.

Marco knew Dylan didn't want to bring up bad memories for him because he wasn't even aware he was doing it. Marco didn't want to talk about this and the boy seemed too dense to get that.

"No, I wasn't. That's why I'm still getting used to it," he answered, with a tone that hopefully explained to close the subject.

"Yeah, you don't want to tell me what happened, I guess?" asked Dylan.

Marco shook his head. "I really don't. So, you were telling me how you look…"

"Uh, well, I told you my hair color and eye color. What else do you want to know?" asked Dylan, moving closer, as though he was afraid Marco's blindness made it harder for him to hear, or maybe just because he wanted to be closer. Who knows what Dylan's intentions were?

"Your height, maybe. It's all good to know for a blind person," said Marco, leaning his head onto the back of the couch.

Dylan followed his lead, too leaning back. "Well, I'm taller than you I'll tell you that, shortie," Dylan pushed him lightly.

"Hey!" exclaimed Marco. "What happened to you being a gentleman?" he laughed. "I knew it was a lie."

"No, I take it back!" he laughed as well.

"Mhmm," Marco scowled. "I know I'm short. Why must you remind me?"

"I was just kidding," said Dylan. "In fact, you're taller than me!"

"You're lying."

"Well," Dylan said, smirking, "you may never know."

The sad part of that was it was true. No matter what people said about the way they looked, he'd pretty much have to take their word for it.

"Wow. I told my mom I was dropping off a notebook and now, look at me! I really have to get going, Marco," Dylan grabbed his backpack from the floor, throwing it over his shoulder. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Marco."

"You have been here a while," he laughed, deciding it'd be pointless for him to get up.

"Well, you're fun to talk to," Dylan replied, walking to the door. "Bye, Marco."

"Bye, Dylan."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!