A/N: I hope you all enjoy this one. :)
At the end of the school day, Ellie left Marco at his locker, then left to go to her own. She hoped he was going to be okay about the whole Spinner situation after a while. Marco quietly picked out his books, barely caring if he was getting the right ones or not.
"Marco," said Dylan, tapping his shoulder. Marco smiled. Just like that. It was amazing how he could feel such horrible pain just from one word from Spinner, and then just 'Marco' coming out of Dylan's mouth made him feel so much better.
"Hey," he said back, throwing his bag over his shoulder.
"I am going to assume you're walking home with Ellie," said Dylan. Marco nodded. "Want me to give you both a ride?" he asked.
"Oh," said Marco, "thank you."
They waited for Ellie to come back, not really speaking at all, but not needing words to project how happy they both were to spend even a few minutes together.
"Hey, El, Dylan's going to give us a ride, okay?" Ellie nodded, also thankful.
Marco, Ellie, and Dylan piled into Dylan's car, still not having said anything important other than thanking Dylan for his kindness. Ellie was uncomfortable.
"Hi, Dylan," she said, feeling the need to bring up conversation.
"Hey," Dylan said back to her, concentrating on the road. "How are you?" he asked.
"I'm good," she smiled, glad that Marco couldn't see the concerned glance she shot his way. "How are you?
"Fine," he replied. "Marco, everything okay?" he asked, noticing Ellie's glance in his direction. "You're very quiet."
Marco shrugged, leaning his head against the cool window. "I'm okay," he answered after a while.
"You sure?" asked Dylan. Ellie was glad he didn't let it go right away.
"Yes," he answered, trying to smile.
Dylan was afraid to push the conversation any further, so he simply turned his eyes back to the road. He dropped Ellie off at her house first, (simply because it was easier that way, of course) leaving him alone in the car with a silent Marco.
"You know," said Marco, finally speaking, "you don't have to take advantage of the fact that I can't see you because I'm not stupid; I know you keep looking at me."
Dylan sighed. "Marco, I just--"
"I know," he interrupted, "but I'm fine, like I said." Marco concentrated on pushing his fingers through each strand of the hair on his head for the rest of the car ride. He knew he was making Dylan feel bad, and didn't want to be doing that this early in the relationship, so when he dropped him off, he tried to be pleasant.
"Thanks for driving me home," he picked his bag up from off the floor, and opened the car door. "I'll…umm…see you tomorrow, right?" he asked, tilting his head to one side.
"Yeah, the party. Come over at, like, six. Spinner's taking her out first," said Dylan.
Marco nodded, leaning over to have his lips captured, once again, by Dylan. He pulled away, trying not to think of the pain caused by that name.
"Tomorrow," said Marco, getting out of the car.
"Bye," said Dylan. His car drove away. Marco sighed, walking up the driveway, opening the door, and noticing his mother didn't seem to be in the house, he went down the hallway to his room.
Marco always closed the door behind him when he walked into the room. Sadly, it was more out of nerves than a simple case of wanting privacy. Lately, he'd been thinking about the reasons more and more. They didn't really mesh. Sometimes, he desperately wanted to keep his door open, so that if someone were to want to hurt him, his mother (if she were home) would be able to get in. Other times, he thought closing it would be a much better idea, keeping the unwanted guests out. However, he didn't choose either way. His body simply did it for him.
What or who was Marco actually afraid of? He did settle, well, as much as he could, the problems with Giulio. Also, even if the boy was out to get him, he was about an eight to ten hour flight away from him.
Was it Spinner? Yes, he was hurt by the unkind words he'd spoken, but did he really believe Spinner would come to physically hurt him? Was he rationally afraid? Was he just upset? Marco tried to force himself to stop thinking because thinking always made things worse.
"I'm in my room," said Marco to himself, seated on his bed, touching the door again to make sure it was closed, though knowing it was. "The door is closed," he got up from his bed to pull the windows a bit, as though proving to himself nothing could happen. "The windows are also closed." He sat back down on the bed, trying to remain calm, hoping that he would not have any sort of a panic attack. He took a deep breath. "Everything's okay."
Honestly, Marco did feel safer after checking every lock once or twice. However, safety wasn't the only thing on his mind. Marco also desired approval. Whether people understood his need for it or not, they certainly didn't give it. It wasn't as though he didn't work for it, either.
Good grades: He'd always worked for them, even when it was starting to become exceptionally difficult due to the blindness, but he worked nonetheless. Sometimes, his mother noticed.
The way he dressed? When he dressed the way he liked it, it was always in some hope to impress some boy. However, when he dressed the way many people felt a 'straight' boy was supposed to dress, it was supposed to be approved by everyone else. Normally, though, (with the exception of Dylan) no one really acknowledged the way he dressed in a good way.
Being straight. That was definitely a big one. He'd spent many years of his life trying to deny it, and deep down, one always knows. He or she may not really know until an older age because when a kid is young, it's all about cooties anyway. Half the time, they don't know what gay is anyway. But when Marco knew what the words gay and straight meant, he knew he was different. Not necessarily gay, but considering the way people looked at gays, they'd always see his feminine looks for homosexuality. The fact that he really was gay was beside the point. He was the stereotype in everything he did.
The point is that Marco tried to pretend he was straight even after he knew there was no way in hell he was. It wasn't so much that he wanted to be with a guy, but he didn't want to be with a girl. Pretending to be straight, though it was what he did want, wasn't done for himself. It was done to impress. It was done so that he could be approved.
All he ever looked for was approval, and instead, he got dirty looks, bashings, and the loss of a new friend because of the one thing in his life he couldn't control.
"Marco," called his mother from the other room. Marco thought about ignoring her to deal with his own thoughts, but that wasn't fair to her.
"Yeah?" he called back, trying not to sound too annoyed.
"How was your day?" she asked, coming closer to his room.
Marco sighed. "Fine, yours?" Politeness and faking happiness would get the conversation over more quickly, he figured.
"Good," she said, walking away from the door again.
Marco lay back on his bed, remembering that he'd specifically told himself not to think. What was he doing? He sighed again, pulling out his books and his cell phone.
"Hey, Ellie," he said, glad she picked up on the first ring. "I know you just got home," he laughed, "but I hate doing homework on my own, and my mom pretends like she understands it. Want to come over?" he asked.
Ellie, too, laughed. "Sure," she said, glad that he sounded happier than when she'd left. "I'll be right over."
"You're, like, a math genius," said Ellie, laughing. "I mean, I'm reading the problem, you don't even know what it says, and you already have the answer."
"I have three quarters of the question!" he exclaimed. "That's enough!"
"Thankfully, we are done with that headache," she rolled her eyes. "I don't see why you like math. Other than the fact that you're good at it, there doesn't seem to be anything appealing about it."
Marco laughed. "No one understands," he said dramatically.
"At the risk of being yelled at," Ellie started, "I need to know what was wrong today, you know, in the car."
"Ellie--"
"And don't you dare say nothing!" she interrupted firmly. "I'm not stupid, and I know you well enough to know that there is something…" she stopped, seeing that he got the point.
Marco knew he had to tell her the truth because she wouldn't give up until she got it, but the truth sounded so stupid. Surely, it sounds dumb to say 'I hate being with this boy I adore'. That wasn't exactly it. He definitely didn't hate his new boyfriend. He just hated being hated, basically.
Marco was feeling unaccepted, which sometimes caused him to act a bit out of character. However, knowing his reasoning for feeling the way he did made him sound silly and odd, he didn't want to explain. Besides, he was sitting in his bedroom, lying down next to Ellie, simply talking. He felt fine at that moment.
"Okay, so it's not exactly nothing," he gave in, "but it's something I don't want to discuss."
"Maaarco," she whined, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Don't give me that. If you're hurt about something, I can help."
Marco shook his head. "I honestly don't know how to explain it," he said truthfully, putting his head down, letting his arms also fall beside him. Ellie moved closer, pushing the hair out of his face.
"Try?" she suggested, very close to him.
Marco cleared his throat. "I am starting to agree with everyone, El," he said, frowning.
"With what?" she asked.
"That I'm…" he winced at the thought, "disgusting."
"Marco!" she said, appalled, sitting up quickly, and pulling him up to do the same. "First of all, not everyone thinks you are. Yes," she admitted, "there are those few, but they have no idea what they're talking about."
Marco shrugged. "This is why I didn't want to tell you. You'd get all weird and freaked out, spouting all this stuff about what a great person I am."
Ellie shut her mouth hurriedly. She had just been about to explain to him what a great person she really did think he was. She opened her mouth again, figuring she'd go the other way.
"Okay, one boy, I believe his name is…John? Your gym class?" Marco nodded, knowing whom she was talking about. "Well, last year, he dated four girls at the same time. As a ninth grader, he had sex with four girls! All the while, these girls didn't even know about each other," said Ellie. "That is what I like to call disgusting. It doesn't matter what the outcome was, Marco."
"Ellie," he started again.
"No," she said. "Please listen." Marco nodded in return, waiting for her to speak. "Hitler and the Nazis…. what they did, that is what most people would refer to as disgusting and horrible. Marco, ANYONE who puts you in that category next to those two people is out of their minds and downright disgusting themselves."
There was silence for a little while after Ellie's little speech. Marco didn't dare utter a word because he was sure anything he could say next to that would be unheard.
"Marco," said Ellie again, "please don't ever let anyone make you think you're bad."
Marco laughed, though he didn't really find any humor in the situation. "It's a little too late for that," he said, biting his lip. "Ellie, I try," he said, trying to make her understand, "to not let what they say bother me, but I went to Catholic school my whole life! I've heard the worst things. Worse than you can possibly imagine. I grew up with the basic rules. Do your homework. Be a good boy. Don't be gay. It didn't matter if it was my dad, the rest of my family, peers, or even teachers. I was put down constantly. It's just hard."
"I'm sure it is," Ellie agreed, though she knew she didn't understand how bad it must have been, "but it'll get better. I'm not going to lie and say, 'eventually, the homophobes will all be gone,' because we both know that'll never happen. However, I do hope you begin to see that what they say doesn't matter."
"It does," he argued, not ready to end the conversation, standing up. "It does matter because I want to have them like me for what and who I am, but I also want Dylan. I hate being judged."
"Everyone goes through that," Ellie, too, stood up, and put her hands on his shoulders, gently shaking him. "
"But--"
"Nope!" Ellie said loudly, cutting off any chance he had to protest. She wasn't going to be accepting any excuse. "I have to go. Promise I'll find you happy the next time I see you, which will be at school…then the party tomorrow. Oddly, I'm going."
Marco nodded. "Okay," he put his arm out, his common gesture for her to move in to wherever he was to hug him.
"Promise," she said again. Marco sighed.
"I promise the next time you see me, there will be this huge smile on my face that says 'I am the luckiest and most amazing boy in the world.' That do it for you?" he asked, smiling.
She laughed, and finally offered him the hug he'd wanted. "Bye!"
Marco waved as she walked out of his bedroom, not forgetting to get up and lock it. Twice. Fear of some intruder or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? He didn't know which was worse.
The next morning before school, Marco found himself again in Cathy's car. He had long since found out that it was a silver corvette, after asking many questions. That had been one of them. Marco felt that the best way to feel comfortable the way he was, was to ask many questions. Though he always asked Ellie a lot of questions about the way she looked, and what she was wearing, and also Dylan and his other friends, Cathy had been bombarded with the most. Marco knew how almost everything she owned in her apartment, her car, and on her body (the outside) looked. They had become his fascinations. Questions and appearances. It also amazed him how appearances had never mattered to him before he knew he'd no longer be able to tell one from the other.
Cathy pulled into the parking lot, walking with a smiling Marco. "You look happy," she commented.
"I've got to smile for Ellie today. I made a promise," he laughed.
"I see. So, I was having an innocent little chat with your mother and…a boy's name simply popped up. Any information?" Marco shook his head, making Cathy laugh.
"Okay, tight lips, I'll get it out of you sometime. Just wait until you have another question for me, I'll throw this back out you." She took his arm, ready to help him up the stairs as usual, but Marco gently took his hand away.
"Can I…walk them myself today?" he asked, sounding hopeful. No matter how independent Marco felt he was, he'd made it clear to almost everyone that he hated the stairs. Even after he counted them and knew them well, they still sort of scared him, so Cathy was rather surprised by his request.
"Sure," she said. "I'll just walk next to you, okay?"
Marco nodded thankfully. He reached his arm out to touch the railing, then slowly walked up one step. Two. Three.
"Four," he said, not even realizing he'd started speaking aloud. "Five," he had nothing to worry about, so he tried to stop his hand from shaking so much. He knew there were annoyed people behind him, so he moved on as fast as he could. "Six," he said, walking up to the next one. "Seven."
"Done," said Cathy, sounding impressed. "I'm proud of you," she smiled, affectionately rubbing his back.
"Let's go in," he sighed. He felt like he was a year old, and his mother was trying to help him learn how to walk for the first time.
Cathy took the hint. She opened the door for him, following his footsteps closely as they walked together to his first class, meeting Ellie there as always.
"Have a good day," said Cathy, walking off after giving a quick smile to Ellie.
"You're smiling," Ellie noticed.
"I don't break promises," Marco said, following her into the classroom.
Marco's day had gone pretty well, for the most part. He had to suffer that whole 'excited for the party, so time moves slower' kind of thing, but he had still gotten through it. Dylan offered to drive him home again. Ellie was staying after school for extra help, so she didn't need the service.
"Hey," said Dylan, pulling out of the driveway, "you happy today?"
Marco's smile only grew wider. He nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, sorry about yesterday."
"It's fine," said Dylan, brushing off his apology. "I was just worried about you, you know?"
"Yeah," Marco replied, playing with the cross around his neck, and staring blankly ahead.
"Okay, see, that's why I worry," Dylan laughed lightly. "Now, all of a sudden, you look depressed again," he said, putting his hand gently on Marco's knee, something he did quite frequently as a gesture of comfort. It definitely was comforting to know that someone wanted to be around Marco as much as Dylan seemed to.
"Don't," Marco said, putting his hand over Dylan's. "Don't worry."
Dylan sighed. "I'll try. It's just every time I see you smile, within a moment, it's gone." They had arrived in Marco's driveway, and Dylan picked up his hand from Marco's knee to gently run it across his cheek. "I like to see you happy."
"I am," said Marco, "really," he added, knowing Dylan didn't believe him. "It's just…I have trust problems."
"Do you not trust me?" Dylan asked, confused.
"I do. It's just people have let me down in the past sorely, and I need to know you won't do the same," said Marco.
When Dylan had said he was worried, Marco's immediate brain reaction was that he was upset because of the 'disgusting' thing coming back. After Dylan had mentioned the previous day, he'd thought about it again, but he didn't even see Spinner that day. (Hence, the day being a good one.) It surprised even Marco when that trust thing came out of his mouth. Maybe the door closing, window-locking fears actually made sense to him deep inside his brain without even knowing it.
Besides his independence, there had also been another reason why he never let anyone get to close trying to help him. Who knows what someone could do? Dylan could have told him it was one textbook when, in fact, it was the wrong one. Now that he thought about it, it really did make a lot of sense. He had a fear of trusting others and he hated the fact that, in his blind state, he mostly had to depend on them. He had never before thought of it that way. When the words came out of his mouth, though, he realized that they were definitely true.
"I can't pretend I understand," Dylan started, "but I will tell you that you can trust me. I won't let you down, Marco."
Marco was extremely glad for that, and he gave all his trust to Dylan at that moment. Every little insecurity and unhappy emotion he had in his heart, he gave to Dylan. Whether Dylan knew it or not, wanted it or not, he was getting years of Marco's heartache thrown at him. Dylan had his trust, and he had full responsibility of holding it well.
Marco didn't explain to Dylan that task he was taking on because it was already implied. Dylan had his trust and his heart, and he knew how to handle it. Marco kissed him fully, more than just the short kisses they'd given each other before. It was so much more than that because it symbolized Marco's entire being just given generously away to the boy next to him. He kissed him as though there wouldn't be a tomorrow (and as though he wouldn't be with him a few hours after). He kissed him as though nothing in the world mattered. He kissed him as though the word disgusting had never existed about him or anyone else.
When Marco kissed him, he gave him his trust and, perhaps unknowingly to both of them, his love. One can never completely get those things back.
A/N: Okay, so yay? Did you like it? Lol. I hope so. I already know what is basically going to happen in the next chapter, and it's not going to be pretty. Review, please? I'm sick and my back hurts lol, but if you review, I can assure you, those pesky little problems will seem miles away, and I'll write like the wind. Love you all!