A/N: I'm going to try to get as many chapters posted within the next couple of days before everything gets even busier. I don't like being busy; it's not fun. I hope you like this chapter, and if you don't, I understand, and also promise that the next chapters will be exciting. Lol. Please enjoy and review :)

"I'll see you tomorrow," said Ellie, as Marco got himself into the car.

Marco nodded, refusing to say anything, still shocked at the emotions inside of him. Seriously, was he going insane?

Ellie smiled sadly at Cathy, walking in the other direction to meet her bus.

"Is everything okay?" Cathy asked. She'd probably noticed the obvious fact that he was shaking uncontrollably.

"No," he replied, not even bothering to lie. Everything was absolutely not okay.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked, gently laying her hand on Marco's shoulder. Marco shrugged away from her grasp, visibly wincing at the touch.

"Don't," he whispered, attempting to justify his action.

"All right," she said, sounding a bit defensive, turning back to the road in front of her.

Not a moment too soon, Cathy pulled up in his driveway. Marco was glad he was going to be able to be alone.

"Sorry," he whispered, feeling guilty. Even if he hadn't snapped at her, he still might have hurt Cathy's feelings.

"No problem," she smiled, hoping to reassure him.

Marco walked into his house, calling out his mother's name as the door slammed behind him. He still hadn't gotten used to the fact that his mother worked later now that she was alone. The minute he realized he could be completely alone just to have some time to relax, the phone rang. He sighed.

"Hello," answered Marco, his hands still slightly shaking, which angered him.

"Before you hang up on me, I knew you wouldn't ever pick up your cell phone if you thought it might be me," said the other voice extremely quickly, barely giving Marco a second to even register who it was.

"I have to deal with you at my locker, Dylan," said Marco, feeling a slight urge to simply throw himself out a window, "but I don't want to have to do it here." He really had no more patience with Dylan, but he was glad he wasn't close enough for him to fear what he could do to him.

"Marco, your um…scream, well, I can't stop thinking about it. Please, talk to me." Dylan was eventually going to resort to pleading on his knees.

"I just…I can't," Marco replied, though he still hadn't hung up the phone, so he must not have been as eager to leave as even he thought he was. He carried the phone to the living room couch. "Dylan, it's…I want you to understand."

"I do," said Dylan.

"No, you don't," said Marco, "because I don't even fully get it, so there's no way you do." He rolled his eyes. "I know I haven't known you for long, Dyl, but you're the only thing—person in my life that actually makes sense. At least, you were."

"Marco, I'm sorry. I know that you know that, but I made a huge mistake, and I would like to fix it," said Dylan, biting his lip, hoping for a second chance.

"I'm kind of glad you made that mistake, though," said Marco, changing his position on the couch so that he was lying down on his stomach. "You see, it made me realize that I'm not over everything, I shouldn't trust people, and that I'm still afraid."

"Marco," Dylan started, shaking his head, ashamed at what Marco had said he'd made him realize, "you should trust people, no matter what I do, and you shouldn't be afraid."

"I don't care what you think!" Marco yelled again, albeit not as hysterical as the scream in the hallway. "You're the reason I am scared. I am shaking, Dylan. I am physically shaking, and that's not right." Though it had sounded good to say, Marco wished he hadn't said it. Dylan would think he was even weaker than he'd probably already thought him.

Dylan, however, didn't think about his strength or weakness. "You're afraid of me?" he asked.

"Of course!" Marco said, not realizing Dylan was that dense when it came to such topics. "I mean, the hallway thing…my practically jumping away from you. I'm shaking. What do these signs tell you?"

"I didn't even realize…" said Dylan softly, seriously surprised. "Marco, I've never…I'm so sorry," he repeated, not knowing any other way for Marco to see how sorry he truly was. The conversation they'd had, before he drank, came back to his mind. How could he have been so incredibly idiotic?

"I never want you to feel afraid," said Dylan.

"It's a bit too late for that," Marco replied, looking up when he heard the door close.

"Hello," said his mother happily, and Marco felt his heart rise. Had he really thought someone was breaking into the house? Paranoia was a horrible feeling.

"Hi," he said, letting out a slow breath of air he'd been holding.

"Hi?" Dylan asked, confused.

"Mom," Marco said simply.

Dylan nodded. "Okay," he said, knowing Marco couldn't see his gesture through the phone. "Listen, I know it's too late for changing what I did, but can I make it better?"

"No," Marco answered quickly.

"I need you to forgive me in order for me to be able to get better, Marco."

"I will forgive you," said Marco, "for what you did, but that doesn't make me put it in the past. I can't help being afraid of you and…pain. It's never far from me, Dylan."

"Let me try and restore your trust," Dylan begged. It wasn't just about getting Marco back anymore because that might have been a lost cause, but it was about returning Marco's faith, trust, happiness, and anything else that might have been lost before and after Dylan arrived in his life. When Dylan met Marco, it had been his job to make Marco more trusting, but he'd only made it worse. It wasn't about he and Marco anymore; it was about simply Marco.

"I just…I wish…"

"Marco," said his mother, walking out of the kitchen, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I do need the phone."

"I have to go," said Marco, not bothering to mention the cell phone choice, and hoping Dylan didn't think of it. "You want to try and 'restore my trust', you don't need my permission to do that. Bye."

After Marco hung up, Dylan was left to think about all that Marco had said. He needed to do something that would change what he did, but also what his cousin had done, and basically anyone else who had hurt him in the past. In order to gain back Marco's trust, he definitely had a difficult job to do.

He hadn't been lying when he told Marco that he was in serious trouble for what he'd done. Though, in telling their parents, Paige had conveniently left out the part about what happened with Marco, but for the drinking, he was in serious trouble. He deserved it, of course. If his feelings for Marco alone couldn't make him stop drinking, there was a slim chance anything else would.

But he had been given the best guy in the world! He had literally been 'given' Marco, he believed. Why else would it happen that a boy who was extremely unhappy with himself had just arrived at Degrassi, (who just happened to be gay) needing help, and extremely interested in Dylan? Besides, it had happened at a time where Dylan really wanted a guy…not that he couldn't live without one at the time…but, anyhow, he'd been pleasantly surprised when he found himself falling for him, and even more surprised when he found Marco was falling as well. Hell, maybe he did believe in soul mates. Whatever the case, he'd had the most amazing boy in the world, and he'd screwed it up… Things like that seemed to occur in Dylan's life.

He turned over, dropping his cell phone precariously on the floor, sighing. He could do it. Bringing someone's faith and trust in the world back after it had been lost from everyone couldn't have been too hard, could it?

"I'm sorry!" Dylan screamed, talking mainly to his ceiling. He heard his sister laughing softly in her room, though, which meant that not only his ceiling had heard.

"He can't hear you, brother," said Paige sensibly.

"You know what," he yelled back, getting up from the bed, "I'm going over there."

Dylan pulled on his shoes, tying the laces quickly, as he wanted to get out of the house as fast as possible. He wasn't really sure if he was allowed to go out, and he also wasn't sure about showing up at Marco's house, and how he'd react. However, he didn't have time to think or consider the consequences. He was going.

Dylan opened the front door, hearing his sister's call of good luck from her bedroom. She wanted Marco to be happy just as much as he did. He walked down the stairs leading down from his porch, and jumped into his car.

"I'll get it!" Marco called out to his mother, knowing she'd try to protest, claiming that it was much easier for her. He was right next to the door, so he threw it open calmly.

"Marco," said Dylan, "you said you couldn't stop me from trying."

Marco stood there for a moment. "I don't…all right, come in," he sighed, figuring he'd lose the battle anyway.

Dylan stepped into the house, smiling somewhat, remembering that he had really nothing at all to say.

"I still, uh, love this house," said Dylan conversationally, feeling dumber and more uncomfortable by the second.

"Yeah, sure," said Marco, crossing his arms, his eyebrow raised. "I do hope that's not what you came over here to say…" he said, ashamed when he felt a small smile tugging at his lips. He wasn't going to give in. What would Dylan assume if he saw Marco smiling at him? Damn, he was paranoid.

"Marco, you're amazing," Dylan started, making more up as he went along, not used to not having a conversation planned. "I mean, you make me so happy," he said softly.

Marco didn't make a sound, but Dylan saw disbelief clearly written across his face.

"Ma," he said loudly. She came out of her room, smiling at Dylan, having heard nothing about what happened between the two. Dylan looked confused. "Can you…maybe hang around the kitchen or something?" asked Marco, hoping she wouldn't be irritated.

"Sure," she didn't look annoyed, but slightly confused. Marco thanked her. He shrugged, feeling Dylan's eyes on him.

"Want her around…" he muttered, signaling for Dylan to go on.

Dylan's heart dropped yet again. Marco was afraid to talk to him while his mother was on the other side of the house. He really was so afraid of what Dylan would do to him. He wouldn't hurt him. Didn't Marco see that?

"Would you believe it if I told you I loved you?" said Dylan.

"No," Marco said immediately, not sounding angry any longer, "I wouldn't."

"Well, it's true, but I respect your opinion. Marco, can you at least trust that I won't hurt you again?" he asked.

"No, I wish I could, Dylan. Do you think I like feeling paranoid and being afraid of every little thing all the time?" said Marco, quickly losing his ability to control himself.

"I guess not," Dylan replied, sitting down on the couch. Marco continued to stand, as usual, pacing the floor in front of Dylan. "Marco, I haven't been drinking…" said Dylan, waiting for some kind of response from Marco. "And you don't have to be afraid of me."

"So, you're saying, when you drink, I'm allowed, but when you don't--"

Dylan cut him off. "I won't anymore," he said confidently. "If I can't stop after one drink, I won't even have one anymore," said Dylan, reaching out to gently take his hand, preparing himself for the rejection.

Marco didn't move his hand away, but his body did make some involuntary shudders as he calmly thought to himself that his mother was less than four feet away, and though she couldn't see them from her position, she'd be out there in an instant if he made a sound.

"Do you want to pay me back, Marco?" asked Dylan. "Is that what you want? Because you can hit me, push me, whatever makes you feel better."

"That's not what I want," Marco replied, shifting his weight from his right foot to his left, trying to ignore Dylan's hand in his in any way he could. It shouldn't have bothered him so much, and he was going to be brave.

"Then, what do you want," asked Dylan, perfectly happy to give Marco anything he asked for.

"You," said Marco bluntly, "but not this you," he corrected himself. "I want to be with the Dylan who makes me so happy, and jokes around all the time, but is obsessed with helping me, which bothers the hell out of me, of course, but still makes me happy that he cares, but I'm not sure if he exists," Marco admitted, feeling emotional again.

"Maybe," said Dylan, "I could bring him back for you, with your help, of course because he's still here." He cleared his throat. "He's still here, but he screws up a lot, just so you're aware."

Marco laughed despite the fact that he'd been trying not to let himself be charmed. "I am well aware, thanks for your concern," he said, smiling.

Dylan smiled too, but then it faded just as quickly as it had arrived. "Am I forgiven?" he asked, almost too surprised.

"I already told you, I want that Dylan back, but Dyl, I can't trust…that's not going to change," he let him know carefully.

"Maybe it will."

"It won't," said Marco, not a second thought in mind. "I will remain completely," he whispered, hoping his mother couldn't perfectly hear him, "and utterly scared of you and everyone else. As for forgiveness, change this for me."

"The drinking?" he asked.

"Yes," said Marco, "the drinking. If I'm so important to you, you can do that for me. Since you seem so interested in my trust, maybe you can make a promise now that you won't break."

"I won't ever hurt you… again," said Dylan, sincerity showing clearly in his voice.

Marco nodded, ashamed that he was letting himself be swept away. "We'll see about that."

"Can I kiss you, then?" Dylan asked, still not sure what Marco was allowing.

"May you?" Dylan nodded. "I…suppose," said Marco, closing his eyes.

"I'm going to kiss you. That's a promise. If I keep that…you can trust me a little more?" he laughed.

Marco, too, laughed, waiting. Finally, he felt Dylan kiss him softly, and before he knew it, his lips were gone again.

"I don't know how I feel or what I'm ready for," said Marco, "but don't give up."

"You don't either," said Dylan.

A/N: I really don't know. What did you think? Please review. I'm quite self-conscious about this one. Oh, and by the way, I'm reading a really really good book called, When Jeff Comes Home. I recommend it to any of you!