Author's Note: Finally, right?

Marco knew the cycle. No matter what, the last stage begins with apologies, promises, and love. Then, the process repeats itself. Marco really didn't call his relationship with Corey 'abusive,' but whatever it was, he lived his life simply for that last step. In fact, if Marco were to admit, he was pretty sure he sometimes purposely (though somewhat subconsciously) started fights just to get to that stage. Sick, huh? The love stage was always unbelievably sweet. Sometimes he felt like arguments were the only way to get him to that.

Marco knew it would come eventually, but sometimes after something drastic happened, it would take a while for the apologies to occur, but they never failed to happen. Just as Corey had said, he didn't get ice, but after a moment, he hugged Marco tightly to him, whispering that it wouldn't happen again. Marco wasn't sure if he meant the hitting or Marco's time with Dylan. He knew the second one definitely wasn't happening again.

Corey kissed the bruise carefully. A bruise had formed within minutes? There was still a handprint marked into his face. Marco sat tiredly. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

"I love you, Marco," he said sincerely.

Marco smiled. His favorite part. "I love you too, Core."

Some people said that Corey didn't know what love was, only power, but they would never say that if they knew how strongly those three words coming from Corey affected him. They didn't understand how truthfully he said them, as though he needed Marco to survive.

Marco was starting to see the small, miniscule issue in their relationship, but it wasn't Corey's fault. It was his fault. His problem.

"I—I have to go home," said Marco. "My parents will be angry."

Corey looked at him unsurely. "They didn't care that you were out with Dylan," he said, stepping away from him. "You just want to leave."

"No! I just have to make dinner, you know?" said Marco, shaking as he got up. Strangely, Corey seemed to believe him.

"Yeah, I know," said Corey. "I just miss you when you're gone."

"Drive me?" Marco asked nervously.

Marco and Corey walked out of Corey's bedroom. "So, what happened to your phone?" Corey asked, zipping up his jacket.

Marco looked confused for a moment. "Wh—what? Oh," he said, realizing, "I lost it."

"Good boy," said Corey, kissing his cheek.

Corey opened the door, surprised to see a car parked on the side of the road. "Is that…" he turned to Marco, "Dylan?"

As soon as Dylan had seen the door open, he got out of the car.

"Why the hell is he here, Marco?" asked Corey, putting his hand securely on Marco's shoulder. Marco watched as Dylan walked up the driveway.

He gasped, remembering the damage. "My God, my face!" he said, hiding in Corey's shoulder. Corey roughly pushed him away.

"What's he doing here?" he asked again. Didn't Corey understand that Marco was trying to protect his boyfriend? He wouldn't ask Dylan to come over.

Dylan stood in front of them, slipping his keys into his jeans' pocket. "I followed you," he informed them.

"Go home," Marco mouthed, but drawing attention to himself only made things worse. Dylan's eyes caught the mark. Corey's mark. At least, with his other cuts and bruises, there wasn't a damn handprint on his face. Why hadn't Dylan decided to come one of those times?

Dylan moved closer, reaching his hand out to touch it, but Marco instinctively backed away. "Go home," he said, feeling worse than ever before.

"No," said Dylan in disbelief. "If you think I'm going to leave you alone with him after seeing this, you're out of your mind."

"I'm fine," he said immediately, stepping closer to Corey. Corey put his arm around Marco's waist, glaring at Dylan.

"This is my property, so get off," said Corey.

"Which?" asked Dylan. "The house of Marco?"

"Dylan," said Marco, shaking his head. "Dylan, Do—"

"What is your obsession," said Corey, moving closer to Dylan, "with my boyfriend?" he asked.

Marco tried to coax Corey into calming down, but he ignored him, walking closer that he was standing with almost no distance at all between he and Dylan.

"I don't have an obsession with him," said Dylan. "I just care about him unlike some people."

"He means everything to me, so don't you fucking dare imply that I don't care about him," said Corey, moving even closer.

"You're not supposed to hurt someone who means that much to you," said Dylan.

"I don't!" Corey denied. "Marco?" he asked, Marco's presence being acknowledged once again.

Marco shook his head. "What's that supposed to mean?" the two older boys shouted, not knowing how to read a simple shake of the head.

"Noo…?"

"No what?" yelled Corey, frustrated.

"Don't yell at him!" said Dylan. "He hates that."

Corey pushed Dylan away from him. "Don't tell me how to treat him."

"I'll tell you anything I want to tell you," said Dylan childishly, pushing him back. "You may be able to push him around, but I won't be so easy," said Dylan. "I actually fight back."

Corey didn't reply, raising his fist, and Marco closed his eyes tightly. It had become a habit when anyone raised his or her hand even in class. He could hear the painful crack as Corey's hand made contact with Dylan's jaw. As Dylan had warned, he returned with an even harder hit, something Corey was certainly not accustomed to.

Marco wanted to walk back into the house or stop the fight, but he knew he wouldn't accomplish either one. He simply watched painfully with one eye closed.

Dylan had managed to get Corey up against the wall. Marco's being there was forgotten…again. "Does it make you feel wonderfully wrong?" asked Dylan. "Does it make you feel good hurting him?"

"I do not hurt him. We went over this," said Corey, finally breaking free of Dylan's tight hold.

"You've absolutely broken him!" said Dylan. "You've taken away the soul in him that I fell in love with."

Marco turned to look at him. Had Dylan actually said what he thought he said? More importantly, did Dylan even realize it?

"Don't you ever go near him," said Corey, realizing that at that moment, professing his love, Dylan had become more of a danger than he ever had been. He had a tight hold on both of Dylan's arms. When Corey was angry, he was strong.

"Maybe Marco would like a say in this," said Dylan, forcing himself, with difficulty, out of Corey's grasp.

"No, no, Marco's good!" said Marco, not wanting to get involved. He knew if he lied, Dylan would be upset with him. If he told the truth, Corey would murder him with bare hands.

"That's what I mean!" exclaimed Dylan. "The Marco I knew would always want a say. In fact, it could get irritating," Marco smiled, knowing he meant no offense by that statement. "But that's not the point. He always told me what he wanted and how he felt. You've turned him into some speechless, emotionless, marionette."

"I don't control him. He does what I want because he loves me," said Corey defensively.

"You don't control him? That's got to be the funniest thing I've heard all year," said Dylan without a trace of a smile.

Marco was just glad the violence was over. "C—Corey was going to take me home, Dylan."

"I'm heading over that way, Marco," said Dylan. "I could—"

"I will take him," said Corey.

Marco nodded. "I love Corey, Dylan," he said, getting in the car with him. Dylan watched, walking slowly to his car.

While Marco turned around to pull his seat belt on, he mouthed the words, 'Call me'.

Dylan nodded, but Marco had already turned back around in his seat.

Marco tapped his fingers nervously on his thighs. Why did he want Dylan to call him? Would Corey even let him out of his sight for a moment? Was he angry with Marco for the fight?

"Your face is fine," said Corey, banging his right hand against the window. "How dare he tell me I abuse you? Why the hell are you friends with that jackass?"

"I don't know," Marco said with a shrug.

"And to think he said he was in love with you." Yes, Marco definitely didn't need Corey's reminder of that one. He smiled in spite of himself, turning away so Corey wouldn't see.

"You see why I don't want you with these people now?" Marco didn't answer right away. "Yes?"

"Mhmm," he said distantly, staring out the window.

"So, you start eleventh grade in a week," said Dylan conversationally. Marco didn't answer. He'd been so uncharacteristically quiet for a while. "Soo, how's your boyfriend?"

Dylan generally avoided the topic of Corey. It always reminded him of their "almost date." If only he had listened to Spinner when he said Marco was ready.

"He's just fine," said Marco, refolding a shirt of Dylan's, (which he had screwed up magnificently) and putting it in his suitcase.

"You spend almost every minute together," said Dylan. "I haven't seen you in forever."

"I know," said Marco uncomfortably, changing the subject. "Are you scared for University?" he asked.

"Nah," he said, shaking his head slowly, cautiously throwing the previous subject back in. "This guy better good enough for my Marco," he said protectively, causing Marco to let out his first smile of the afternoon, "though…I doubt anyone could be."

Marco smiled even more brightly, hugging him. "You're sweet."

"Trust me, if he don't treat you the way you deserve, I'll beat the hell out of him."

Marco laughed nervously into his shoulder, holding on tighter than he knew he should have been. "I trust you."

Marco smiled at the memory. "So help me God, I will kill him if he touches you. Trust me, Marco."

"I trust you, Dyl," he sighed, paying no attention to the boy in the car, but the friend of his past.

Corey stopped dead in the middle of the road. Fortunately, there were no cars behind them. Corey took a deep breath, and then drove a little more until they were in Marco's driveway.

"What did you call me?" he asked, praying that he'd heard wrong.

"Corey," said Marco firmly. "Maybe Core?" he hoped.

"You.called.me.'Dyl'," he said furiously. Marco's mother's car was in the driveway. Surely, Corey wouldn't touch him.

"C-Corey, we were just with him, talking about him, you know? I made a mistake."

Marco was terrified. He'd never seen him so angry, and he didn't want his mother to finish her walk from the car to the house. He wished, for once, she'd interfere.

"Little mistake? So, you think he and I are alike?"

"Core, I'm so sorry, honestly. I definitely don't think you are anything like Dylan," said Marco, speaking truthfully.

"Okay, so obviously you think he's better than me?" he asked.

"Corey, where do you GET that?" he yelled. It was an immediate reaction to the accusation.

Corey grabbed his wrist tightly, digging his bracelet into his skin. "Don't yell at me. Have I not warned you about that before?"

Corey let go without a reason, so Marco turned around to see his mother walking to the car.

"You coming inside, Marco?" she asked, glancing at Corey. He went with Dylan, but came home with Corey?

"Yeah," he replied, taking off his seatbelt.

"Dylan is on the phone for you," she said, explaining why she had it in her hand. Why did she have to mention it? He could have taken it inside after Corey left…now, she had ruined it.

"Can I come in, Mrs. Del Rossi?" asked Corey.

"Well, su—"

Marco cut her off. "Ma, please tell Dylan I'll call him back. It's really not that important."

Marco and Corey got out of the car. Marco took the phone from his mother's hand, planning on telling Dylan he'd call him back. Corey walked inside with the two of them. Once inside, Mrs. Del Rossi went back to her own bedroom while Corey and Marco went to his.

"Dyl, I've—"

"Talk to him," Corey demanded. "I want to know what he has to say."

Marco closed his eyes, sitting on his bed with Corey next to him. "H—hi, Dylan."

"Hey, Marco, you asked—"

"Mhmm," he interrupted, knowing Corey was listening on everyone word. "Umm…Dyl," Marco prayed he had a smart friend, "I wanted to ask you if Paige had my shirt…you know, she borrowed it once," said Marco, coming up with something at a moment's notice.

"Umm…I'll ask her later," he said slowly. "Is everything okay? Where's Corey?" Marco looked to his boyfriend for what was okay to say.

"Home," he answered, due to Corey's direction.

"Marco, I'm sorry. I'll call you back. I have to—"

"No problem," Marco secretly thanked God for it. "Bye."

"Bye, Marco."

"Well, I suppose I should go now, since that wonderful conversation has ended," said Corey, pulling Marco up with him. He kissed him lightly. "See you tomorrow, baby."

"Bye, love you," he said automatically.

"Love you too," said Corey, leaving the room. That was easier than he'd hoped. His heart speed had just started to become normal again after Corey had pulled out of the driveway.

…………………………………………………………………………………

About ten minutes after Dylan had hung up the phone, it rang again. He pushed his paper to the side, not really interested in drafting it in the first place. "Hello," he said wearily, rubbing his eyes. It wasn't Marco; he didn't recognize the number.

"You're not going to tell anyone about Marco's bruise, Dylan," said Corey.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked incredulously. "I have all the proof I need. I don't need any threats from you. Besides, I could fight you," he said. "I did once."

"You tell anyone, I'll know. Marco tells anyone, I'll know. Either way, Dylan, I wouldn't hurt you."

Dylan blinked. "Wait. What?"

"My anger causes slight outbursts, yes, but if you were to cause me to lose him by telling anyone about said 'proof', he'd be in a lot more pain…if you know what I mean."

Dylan took a deep breath. "I mean," Corey went on, "I'd never want to hurt my baby, as I've told you a million times, but if it keeps you from telling anyone…"

"Just don't touch him."

"You are the one forbidden to touch my boyfriend, thank you," said Corey. "As long as Marco's my boyfriend, you'll have nothing to worry about. There's no problems. I won't hurt him."

"You already do. You being his boyfriend is the general problem," Dylan argued. Marco would do anything for Corey. Hell, Corey had manipulated him into thinking he wasn't being abused, even Corey believed he wasn't being abusive. Dylan knew that if he tested Corey, things would get worse. He also knew that Corey could read Marco like a book, so if Dylan interfered, and tried to get help, Corey would know and punish Marco unfairly for it. He wasn't going to keep it a secret, of course. What could he possibly do?

He realized another minor detail, making his plan seem even weaker. He didn't have any proof except that he'd seen the bruise. No picture.

"Be careful what you say, Dylan."

Author's Note: Okay, so please review!