Author's Note: So, a tragedy on my street this past weekend (May 28th) prevented me from updating. There was this horrible murder and rape. Anyway, everything is okay right now, besides me being shaken. Here's the chapter.

"Wh—what do you mean?" asked Marco nervously. "You can't just not believe me."

Dylan sighed. "Marco, I'm not that stupid, you know? I want to help you. Why can't you…" he paused, trying to figure out the best way to deal with the situation, "just trust me?"

"I do trust you, Dylan. I…" he let his voice trail off, searching the room with a sense of fear. It made him angry because he knew deep inside that Corey was not there, but he still felt guilty about talking to Dylan, and had to make sure Corey really was nowhere to be found.

Marco remembered what Corey had taught him so well. He didn't need his friends. The only person who mattered was Corey. He twisted his new bracelet around his wrist.

"I—I only called because I wondered if it might be an emergency," said Marco, biting his lip.

"Emergency?" Dylan said, bemused. "Your boyfriend is beating you half to death, and you don't think this is an emergency! Marco, why the hell do you—"

"Don't yell at me," said Marco quietly, a desperate tone in his voice.

Dylan sighed, regretting the fact that he'd made things worse by intimidating him. "I won't yell at you; I'm sorry."

Marco smiled. He hadn't truly believed those words in a long time. "It's okay," he replied. "Corey, he—he doesn't hurt me like everyone thinks," he stuttered.

Dylan seemed skeptical, though Marco couldn't see his expression through the phone.

"Marco," said Dylan as calmly as possible. "I don't believe that."

"Why do you tell me to trust you if you don't trust me?" he asked, feeling his heartbeat quicken. There was someone on the other line.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the beep. It wasn't Corey, he told himself. "Probably just for mom," he said, not realizing for a moment that he'd spoken aloud.

"What?" asked Dylan, confused.

"Nothing," said Marco, imagining all of the possible outcomes of answering or not. On the one hand, if it was Corey, and he told him he was with someone on the other line, he'd be angry with Marco for putting someone above him. If it was Corey, and he didn't answer, Corey would make unfair accusations, and Marco wouldn't be able to lie to him. He continued to fiddle with his bracelet. He'd been so distracted by his own thoughts that it took him a second to realize Dylan said something.

"What?" he asked.

"I said, do you love him?" asked Dylan.

Marco didn't answer right away. "More than anything," he said.

Marco wasn't sure why Dylan wanted to know. If wasn't as if it would make anything better. Not that Marco thought things with Corey were… bad or anything.

"Okay," said Dylan weakly. "If he loved you, he wouldn't hurt you. Would he?"

"He doesn't," said Marco. "He loves me," he said, feeling himself start to cry. He'd been so damn sensitive lately.

Dylan was surprised. He wasn't exactly planning for Marco to start crying. "Relax, hon," he said soothingly, realizing he couldn't give much help and comfort over the phone.

"Meet me somewhere," said Dylan, waiting for Marco to calm down.

"No, Co—Corey," he remembered the beeping noise again.

"Screw Corey!" exclaimed Dylan, taking Marco by surprise. "I'll be there in…I don't know. Wait for me. I'm coming straight from my dorm." Dylan hung up the phone. Marco looked at it with his brow furrowed. He hung up as well.

Marco had tried desperately to erase the evidence that he had cried from his face, but Dylan still noticed the tear stains on his cheeks. "I'm sorry about upsetting you," he said, as soon as Marco got in the car.

"Let's just go," said Marco, looking out the window with his arms crossed.

Dylan sighed, disappointed with the reaction he was getting. "As you wish," he said, pulling out of the driveway.

Marco and Dylan got a table together in the back of The Dot, telling the waitress that they weren't going to have anything…at least, not at the moment.

Marco looked down at his hand, drumming his nails along the table. He waited patiently for Dylan to say something.

"I miss when you used to tell me things," said Dylan. Marco looked up to meet his eyes. "We barely knew each other, but you trusted me with your worries, feelings, concerns, and now you can't even tell me the truth."

Marco licked his lips nervously. When had Dylan become so intrusive? "I'm not lying to you, Dyl."

"See, that's what you don't understand. I know you're lying to me. I just need you to be able to admit it."

Marco stubbornly stared back at him with such honest eyes that Dylan almost reconsidered it.

"So, are you telling me your relationship with Corey is perfect?" asked Dylan. "Marco, I may have no evidence of him physically hurting you, but I do know that he's definitely possessive."

"You act like I'm nothing but a slave to him!" said Marco. "That is not how he treats me at all." Marco held up his bracelet. "He knows what I like."

"So do I," Dylan pointed out. "Is that the only reason you date someone?"

"Of course not," said Marco furiously. Why wouldn't Dylan leave him alone about it? He said he was fine. Dylan knew he couldn't handle the pressure, and he would eventually crack.

"Why do you love him?" Dylan asked in that sweet, soft, calm, fake-curious voice he used that made Marco want to scream.

"He's amazing, Dylan," said Marco, imitating the other's boy's voice.

Dylan rolled his eyes, trying to ignore how much he still wanted Marco to say things like that about him.

"How?" he asked. How could Marco choose someone who liked to make him feel pain over Dylan?

"Dylan, I know what you all think, but it's not true. You can't deal with—"

"How it is ALWAYS turned into my problem, Marco? You try to pin everything on me, and pretend that your life is so perfect, when it's not," said Dylan angrily.

"Nothing and no one is perfect," said Marco. "He just—he just gets really jealous easily."

"No!" said Dylan in mock horror. "I never would have guessed."

"Shut-up," said Marco, glaring. "I don't find you very funny."

Dylan smiled sympathetically, understanding that Marco was going through a hard time. He reached his hand across the table, taking Marco's hand in his own. Marco's fingers immediately stopped drumming, and he relaxed. Dylan ran his thumb along the top of Marco's hand gently. They both fell completely silent because of the feelings it gave both of them.

"Can I call you tonight?" asked Dylan.

"Yeah," said Marco dreamily. He wasn't sure what was coming over him, but he hadn't felt that way in a long time.

"N-no," he blinked, coming back to reality. "Corey—"

"Marco, damnit!" said Dylan, still not letting go of his hand.

"No, I just mean he has my phone. Call my house, okay?" said Marco, not wanting to ruin the moment they'd been having.

"Why," Dylan started, feeling an awful need to kill Marco's boyfriend, "does Corey," he continued, taking a deep breath, "have your phone?"

Marco looked down, embarrassed, answering quietly with, "He thought I would call you…"

"Marco, there's a reason why I drove all the way over here from University," said Dylan, calmly taking Marco's other hand as well. "Part of it is because you're my friend, but I really—"

"Oh, hello Marco."

Marco closed his eyes immediately. He knew that voice, and he knew it sounded angry.

"H—hey, Corey," he replied, without opening his eyes. It was a horrible horrible dream. He could make it disappear.

Dylan realized it would be a good idea to let go of Marco's hands at that moment. "Hello, Corey," he said awkwardly, looking away.

Corey ignored him. "I was going to bring your phone back," he said, gesturing toward the cell phone in his hand, "but you didn't seem to be home."

Marco stood up guiltily, and Dylan saw him shaking as he did so. "Bye, Dylan." He was in major trouble.

"Bye, Dylan," he said nervously.

"Bye, Marco," said Dylan, rising from the table as well. He wanted to follow them, but what could he do? Knock Corey out? There had to be a more practical way to go about it. He let them leave for now, and created his own plan. Marco wasn't ever going to leave on his own; he needed serious help.

Corey walked side by side with Marco all the way to the car. "Get in," he said, his voice dangerously low. Marco hesitated a moment, apprehensive.

"Get in," he repeated, not in the mood to have to wait.

Marco got into the car. As afraid as he was to do it, he knew the consequences would be worse if he didn't.

Corey slammed his door shut, staring out the front window.

"Why would you do that to me?" he asked furiously, grabbing Marco's arm, so that he was forced to look him in the eye.

"I was—Core, we were just talking," he said meekly. "I'm really sorry."

"Oh! You're always sorry," he said, finally starting the car. "It's getting harder and harder to believe."

"I know the feeling," said Marco softly, banging his head on the window for his own stupidity.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing," said Marco immediately.

Corey ignored him. "I take away your phone, and you decide to go out with him? Marco, I don't even…" Marco kept his eyes closed for the rest of the ride, drowning out any muttering Corey was doing.

Marco opened his eyes once the car stopped, seeing that they were in Corey's driveway. He didn't ask why; he couldn't. He simply followed him into the house silently.

Corey closed the bedroom door, leaning up against it. Marco watched from his bed without reaction as Corey repeatedly threw Marco's cell phone at the wall.

"This is for your own damn good, you know," he said, not expecting Marco to respond. "Marco, why would you do this to me? Huh?"

"I don't know," said Marco, once again on the verge of tears. He could handle any amount of beatings, no matter how painful, but he hated when people screamed at him. It made him feel like such a horrible person.

"Don't you start crying now. If anyone should feel upset, it's me!" Corey shouted, finally succeeding in breaking Marco's phone to pieces. "All you seem to do lately is hurt me because I can't even trust you."

"I'm sorry," Marco repeated.

"I don't care, Marco!" said Corey, losing his temper entirely.

He came closer. Marco shut his eyes, preparing for the inevitable. After the blow, he kept his eyes closed, as usual, but he normally opened them after Corey walked away. Corey didn't move. He blinked, confused.

"Open your eyes, Marco," said Corey. Marco did reluctantly. "You do not," he hit him again harder, causing Marco to flinch "ever," he hit him again even harder, "see anyone but me ever again. It's not a request anymore, Marco. It's more than an order this time. You belong to me. Do you get that?"

Marco breathed in deeply, unable to speak. He touched the side of his lip, which was bleeding profusely.

"Answer me!" said Corey, hitting him again, causing Marco to cry out. Something he barely ever did since the first time he'd been hit. Corey had never been so forceful.

"Yes, I belong to you. I'm yours."

"You love me."

"I love you," he replied.

Corey gently rubbed the side of Marco's aching cheek, and Marco ignored the taste of blood in his mouth as he spoke.

"You will never speak to him again, Marco," he said softly.

Marco nodded. "Okay," he said in a strained voice. "Core?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I please have some ice?" he asked, practically begging.

"I don't know. If I do that, will you ever learn your lesson, baby?"

Author's Note: Please review :)