Author's Note: Chapter 18! Wow…this is getting pretty long :) The previous chapter wasn't my favorite, but it needed to be there for this one. I hope you all enjoy this! Yay! Please review.

Marco's mother once told him that, in order to understand love, you need to have your heart broken. He didn't know if that was necessarily true for all people, but it definitely proved true for Marco. He never understood how much Giulio meant to him until he decided their 'friendship' was over, and the Dylan situation pretty much goes without any explanation.

So, was it love Marco felt for Dylan? Was it possible for the boy to fall so hopelessly for another that he had known for only the short period of two months? Marco supposed that if age didn't matter, size didn't matter, and background didn't matter, then the amount of time you had known a person didn't matter either. Love was love. Maybe, then, he was in love.

Marco's heart was certainly broken along with many other feelings in him he'd been trying to hold onto, but there was nothing a little glue couldn't fix, right? Maybe tape? Yes, tape. Dylan was like his tape.

Five days had passed since the talk Marco and Dylan had had over at Marco's house, and things were pretty much the same way they had been. Dylan spoke to Marco at the usual hours. The only difference was, Marco refused Dylan's offers to drive him home unless another person came with them. Only once had Ellie not been able to ride with them, so he'd called Cathy in advance, saying he was going to need a ride home. Though Dylan was hurt, and wished Marco could trust him, he knew better than to push him, making things even worse.

Marco finished dressing himself for the school day, smiling as he ran his hands over his shirt, and recognizing which one it was.

He walked out into the kitchen, not at all surprised that his mother was in there. "Hello," he said cheerfully, picking up his bag from one of the chairs at the table.

"Good morning," she said, happy that he was. "Cathy is here already?" she asked. Marco nodded. "You are not going to eat?"

Marco shook his head. "Sorry. I'm just really not even hungry." He leaned over, and kissed her cheek. "Bye."

Marco walked out to the car, knowing exactly where Cathy parked, where the handle would be, and plopped down on the chair securely.

"Know your way around, huh?" she said, sounding impressed. "I should time you," she laughed.

"Yeah," said Marco, not bothered on that particular morning that she was treating him, once again, like she was so awed by his accomplishments. Usually, it made him feel like a child singing the alphabet. That morning, it made him feel kind of proud.

Marco hugged Ellie the moment he'd met up with her at the door of the classroom. She was surprised, but returned the hug whole-heartedly.

"He's happy today," said Cathy, laughing. "I'll pick you up, Marco?"

Marco nodded, allowing her to leave. Marco smiled, walking with Ellie into the classroom.

"Hey, man," said Spinner, biting his lip, unsure if Marco wanted to have anything to do with him. Had their friendship been repaired?

"Hi, Spinner," said Marco, not sounding too fussed. He was having a good morning.

And just like that, Spinner and Marco were friends again. It didn't matter what bigoted words he'd spouted at him because he was sorry, and Marco had realized, that was all that truly mattered. Dylan was sorry. Therefore, he was stopping alcohol forever. A heartfelt apology seemed to turn Marco's feelings around for everyone. He was still scared, of course. That wasn't a question, but the question was: Could you love someone who you feared? Was that possible?

"I'll be back," said Ellie, as usual, going to her locker.

Marco put away the books he didn't need, and carefully pulled out the ones he did. He was beginning to become surer, thanks to his new reading techniques, which were which. With that, it was much easier. He could trust himself.

"Hey," said Dylan. He made sure to say hello a few feet before he arrived to give Marco time to prepare.

"Hello, Dylan," he said, happier than he had been in a long time. His fingers barely even shook when Dylan got closer. Improvement felt nice.

"Need help?" he asked instinctively.

Marco shook his head. "You should know that by now," he said, closing the locker, but his smile didn't fade.

Dylan nodded. "So…you're going to lunch?" he asked, already quite aware that lunch was where Marco was heading.

"Yes…" said Marco, surprised at the sudden awkwardness.

"So, you still want me to drive you home?" he asked, remembering that Ellie had to stay after school. "I'm sorry," he apologized, seeing the nervous look in Marco's eyes, "I know you probably…"

"That'd be nice," said Marco. "Thank you." He spoke the words surely and easily, but he felt anything but secure.

"Really?" said Dylan, taken aback, but pleased. "I'll meet you here, then, after school." Marco laughed at his utter excitement.

"Very late," Marco reminded, and Dylan turned around to run off to Media Immersions.

"Ellie, right on time," said Marco.

"You're getting really good at that!" she commented.

"You never really pay attention to the differences in the way people walk until it's the only way to know who's with you," he said, shrugging.

"You could just ask," Ellie laughed, opening the cafeteria door for him.

"And you could just lie," he showed his lack of trust again, which always put Ellie in a rather poignant mood.

"Why," Marco questioned himself as he put away his books at the end of the day, awaiting Dylan's arrival, "did I agree to this? It was a horrible idea!" He exclaimed, hoping students that passed by didn't think he was out of his mind.

"I am not ready to be alone," he whispered, hitting himself on the head with his math textbook, "with him in his car. It is a bad combination."

"And, also—"

"Marco," said Dylan, just as he had closed his locker, "talking to yourself?" he asked.

"Hear anything?" said Marco.

"No…are you—"

"I'm fine," he answered quickly, cracking his knuckles, a nervous habit he'd had when he was younger that still came back from time to time.

"Ready to go, then?" he asked, seeing Marco was standing there with his locker closed. Obviously, he was ready.

Marco nodded, though his legs didn't seem to want to take him anywhere. It was okay. Dylan wasn't going to hurt him again. Everything was all right. Why couldn't he just walk?

"Marco?" said Dylan tentatively, trying not to worry about how distressed Marco seemed. Marco sighed.

"I'm fine," he said, once realizing Dylan noticed his fear.

"Are you sure? I mean, if you're too nervous, that's okay, but—"

"Dylan, I am fine, really," he forced a smile, and his legs finally began to move. He followed Dylan out to his car.

"Dylan," he said softly, as he leaned back against the seat.

"Yes?" asked Dylan, starting the car.

"Nothing," he replied, looking out the window. It sounded silly to say he just needed to be assured Dylan was with him. It was funny how some moments, he felt afraid that Dylan would hurt him, but others, he felt that he needed Dylan there to protect him, and had to be sure he wouldn't abandon him. Of course, he knew neither one was going to happen, but sometimes he just needed reassurance.

Marco and Dylan didn't speak for a few moments, and though Marco usually found silence peaceful, he started to feel restless, and had too many bad thoughts in his head. He hated being so scared. He hated it. There was no reason for it, and he had to stop.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dylan asked. "You seem…jumpy."

"Oh," said Marco, way too quickly, "I just, I'm fine."

Dylan resisted the urge to laugh because he knew it was more serious to Marco than it seemed to him. Marco really wasn't feeling right with the circumstances.

"I'm just taking you home," said Dylan. "Once you're there, you can lock the door." He didn't mean for it to sound bitter, but he was afraid Marco would take it that way, so he continued. "I promise I won't hurt you. I'm just taking you home."

Marco nodded, unable to really say anything. He subconsciously tapped his knees with his fingers, waiting for the ride to be over, yet somehow enjoying Dylan's presence.

He subconsciously tapped his knees with his fingers, waiting for the ride to be over, yet somehow enjoying Giulio's presence, considering he didn't get to be with him very often anymore.

"My mom told you to bring me home from school, not interview me," he said spitefully.

Riding with Giulio was always interesting especially when Marco felt he was under the influence. Oh, he had found out after a few minutes that he definitely was. Drunk, that is. He smelled of it, and every few minutes, he'd say nonsensical things. Marco was seriously surprised that they hadn't crashed! Why did Marco get in the car with his hateful drunk cousin? Truthfully, the only other choice was to explain to his parents that Giulio was a drinker, and he wouldn't ever betray a family member like that. The things people do for love. However, somehow, they'd survived the ride. Miracle.

"Seriously, Marco, we're almost to your house," said Dylan, gently touching his shoulder, but quickly retreating. Was he permitted to touch him?

Marco ignored him, breathing deeply. No. He wasn't going to compare Dylan to Giulio again. The fact that he was tapping his legs and felt the same little emotions didn't mean anything. Besides, Dylan wasn't drunk like he pretty much knew Giulio had been. He wouldn't hurt him again. He had promised.

"Marco?" said Dylan. Marco waved his hand in Dylan's direction, showing he had heard him, and he was fine. Dylan fell silent, watching the road again.

"This is my house, and I don't want to be tortured in it!" Marco screamed, pushing an extremely angry Giulio away from him.

"Marco, I'm not… I don't wanna' torture you!" he laughed in such a sardonic way that Marco wanted to punch him in the face. Though, doing that wasn't such a good choice. Giulio may have been at a slight disadvantage with his slow reflexes due to being wasted, but he was still a lot stronger and braver than Marco when it came to fighting.

"Stop," Marco begged, as Giulio had begun to throw things, not necessarily at Marco, but all around.

"What is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with you, Marco?" asked Giulio, coming closer, nearly falling right in front of him.

Marco's mother had asked Giulio to drive Marco home, simply because she was staying late at work. Weren't things always so convenient?

Giulio laughed at Marco's feebleness. "Just go away," Marco begged, having gone from irritated to slightly fearful. Giulio really would stop at nothing.

Giulio had basically destroyed the living room, and Marco looked at the floor in distaste. He'd have to clean all that glass up. He'd have to explain to his mother why her favorite precious heirlooms were scattered on the floor in pieces. He may have even chosen to take the blame for it.

Marco shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. Had that really happened? He was experiencing a memory, but had that really happened? He sort of realized he didn't want to know anymore. He didn't care anymore. After all those nights he wished he remembered, he didn't want to remember anything! He prayed for it to stop, but it wouldn't.

"Why do you want to hurt me?!" he screamed. "How does that make you feel better?" Marco had tears running down his face. He'd never actually been in a physical fight before, and the one he was fighting was mostly one-sided.

Giulio had done absolutely everything he could to attack him, using any means necessary that were in Marco's living room. Throwing plates, punches, pushing, holding Marco down…it was all part of his strange plot to kick the gay out of him.

Giulio stood up, letting go of his younger cousin, giving him a chance to get up, but Marco didn't dare to move. He planned on staying in that one spot until he hopefully died from his emotions taking over.

"Aww, come on, now, Marco! Don't be a baby! Fight me…" he urged. "'Want you to."

Marco didn't care what in the world Giulio 'wanted' him to do at that moment. He wanted an escape or something. And, cursed would be he if he admitted it, he wanted his mother so badly.

Giulio sighed, going over to the mantle. Marco couldn't bear to watch. What was he doing?

Giulio walked back over to him, as Marco laid his head down to the floor, halfway lying on his stomach and halfway kneeling. He couldn't even make sense of his ridiculous position. He just didn't want to see Giulio's face when he did whatever he was planning to do.

"Hey, Marco," said Giulio, "I thought your parents were splittin'," he oddly changed the topic.

"Yeah," said Marco, really not in the mood to talk about such a topic.

"Who is staying in the house?" he asked.

"Probably my mo…why?"

"Isn't this, like, your dad's prized baseball bat?" he asked, smirking. "Aluminum…very expensive… Apparently, it can help anyone win a game. Your dad cares more about this than he probably does about you," he laughed.

Marco closed his eyes, not stupid. He knew what was going to happen. "You think he'd mind if I use it?" asked Giulio. "I'd try not to get it too dirty…"

"Marco…Marco…" Marco opened his eyes, hearing Dylan's voice. How long had he been saying his name?

"Oh my gosh…what's wrong?" he asked, seeing the tears slowly falling down Marco's face.

"I just…I don't," Marco didn't know how to say it, so he grabbed onto Dylan's shirt tightly, hoping he'd understand his message. Dylan held him close to his body, after realizing Marco wasn't going to scream out for his touching him. He obviously wanted it.

"Dylan," he cried harder, burying his face in his shoulder, "I just…I don't want to be so…I don't know."

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed. "It's all right, Marco."

"No, it's not!" he said, outraged. "I want to be so close to you, and I want you to help me to get better with things…but then, I want you to stay as far away as possible because of what could happen. I don't want a relationship where I have to worry about what you're going to do to me all the time. Damnit, I can't even see what you do!"

Dylan didn't respond or protest. He just let Marco scream out all that he needed to say. They had long since arrived in Marco's driveway, but Dylan didn't think Marco knew nor cared. His only clue might have been that they had stopped moving.

"I don't think you realize how horrible it feels to wake up every morning, and remember what you used to see…and now you see nothing when you open your eyes. You don't realize the freaky phenomenon of meeting someone, but having no idea what they look like, and knowing you never ever will." Marco knew he was complaining about things that Dylan really didn't have anything to do with, but he needed to get all of his anger out.

"You also don't know how scary it is to know that someone is right next to you…and they could do anything, Dylan, but you wouldn't be able to stop it. You don't know how it feels to think about something every moment of every hour of every day of every week of every month since it happened. You don't know what it feels like to not remember a night…. and then have little pieces of it in your mind haunting you all of your days and nights. Finally, I remember what happened," he pulled himself off of Dylan's shoulder, rubbing at his eyes, sensing it was no use because the tears kept coming, "but I don't want to anymore."

Dylan wanted to say something, but he didn't know what was appropriate for the situation. He also didn't know if he was really supposed to reply to that. Maybe it was just Marco's need to get his thoughts spoken aloud.

However, he continued with one more statement, speaking in monotone "You don't know what it feels like to wish you had died that night, and yet you keep on living."

Dylan definitely had nothing to say. He felt like crying himself, though he didn't. (Fortunately.) But how could Marco wish that he were dead? That he had been killed? Dylan sighed, looking over at Marco who was staring blankly ahead at the windshield.

"I don't," said Dylan, as an answer to all of those statements about what he 'didn't realize' or understand. It was true. He didn't.

Marco didn't answer, too absorbed in his own world to hear what Dylan was saying.

"Please, DON'T!" Marco screamed, knowing it was no use. He just didn't want to deal with him anymore. He wanted Giulio to go. He'd done enough damage.

"Begging?" he asked, laughing.

"I'm sorry," said Marco, fresh tears mixing with the dried ones along his cheeks. "I'm sorry for being this way. Please…I'm so sorry."

"And I'm sorry for…" he choked, not having anything else to say to show what he was sorry for, "for…telling you," he said honestly, "and ruining our friendship." It made Marco angry that he was sorry for those things even though they weren't his fault.

"I'm sorry I have to hurt you, then," said Giulio, no longer smiling, not frowning, or showing anger, just a straight face that said he didn't care about what he was going to do.

Marco felt it come down hard once, and he cried out in pain. What was he supposed to do? Let it happen. The metal came down harder the second time, and that was it.

"Do you want to go inside?" he asked Marco softly, running his hand gently along his arm.

Marco nodded, but didn't go anywhere. "Walk with me?" he asked.

"Sure," said Dylan, walking to the side of the car, and taking Marco's hand. They walked together to Marco's front door.

"All right, I have to go," said Dylan.

Marco nodded. "Stop drinking?" he said, seemingly out of nowhere.

"I'm working on it," said Dylan, leaning over to hug Marco, which Marco responded to immediately, as though he had been waiting for it. He held onto Dylan for dear life.

"Don't ever scare me again," Marco whispered into his ear, warning evident in his voice.

"I won't," said Dylan, pulling out of the embrace only to have better access to Marco's lips. He leaned forward, kissing him soundly. Marco smiled into the kiss.

There had been days since the incident where he'd wanted to die, and mostly, that was still true. Every morning when he got up, the first thought was usually, 'If I have this impairment, life isn't worth it, anymore. Giulio couldn't have been nice, and just ended it?' However, even if the thought was still in there, a new thought was starting to replace it due to the breathtaking kiss.

He had a reason to live.

"Dylan," he started, staring into the older boy's eyes, wishing he could see how beautiful he presumed they were.

"Yes?" he asked, running his thumb along Marco's cheek, glad his tears had stopped cascading.

"Thank you for being my tape."

Author's Note: Please review! It kind of sounds like the end, doesn't it? It's not:)