Author's Note: Yeah, the cycle's all wrong. Whatever. This is the end of this; can you believe it? The chapter is mostly to show how Dylan's going to have to help fix Marco up, and isn't so sure he's ready to deal with a broken Marco, but he realizes he'll have to try.

Marco managed to survive through half of the wake, but when he saw everyone crying, including his father, he told Dylan he couldn't make it anymore.

"Marco," said Dylan, trying to be understanding, "maybe you should try to—"

"Please take me out of here," he interrupted, completely decided already.

Dylan, not a bit reluctantly, took him outside for air, holding tightly onto his hand the entire way. They sat down quietly on the sidewalk while Marco breathed, trying to calm himself down.

"I'm sorry I'm putting you through all this," said Marco, his voice muffled, considering his face was in his hands. "I really am."

Dylan smiled sadly, putting his arm around him. "Don't worry. I'm here for you."

Marco gratefully accepted the embrace, holding onto the warm body beside him. "I love you," said Dylan quietly, kissing the top of his head.

Marco froze, unable to answer. What was he supposed to say to that? He couldn't say those words again, and the thought of them only brought his ex-boyfriend to his mind. "I'm…" he hesitated, wondering what to do.

Dylan seemed to sense his anxiety. "You don't have to answer," he assured him. Marco was thankful for that. "Just know that I do, very very much."

"I know," he mumbled, just enjoying the feel of Dylan's care and protection.

Marco sat with him for a while, letting himself fall again for Dylan's charm without a second thought. Finally, guests started to pour out from the door behind them, needing Marco and Dylan to move to let them through,

"Marco," said his father, not asking why he'd left. "You should put a coat on. It is cold out."

Marco rolled his eyes, but took the extra coat from his father's hand. It was very cold out, which was to be expected in February.

"Listen, can Dylan and I take a walk?" asked Marco, looking at his father hopefully. "I just don't want to go home right now." He hoped Mr. Del Rossi would understand.

His father nodded curtly, waving them away. "Don't be too late," he told them, and moved to speak with the other family members about his wife.

Dylan and Marco walked down the block hand in hand while Marco kept his eyes down on the ground. He wasn't sure exactly why he was holding so tightly to Dylan's hand or why he felt safe doing it, but with Dylan he had a tendency to feel that way. Just safe. He didn't pay any more attention to their swinging hands by his side.

"I wish," said Marco slowly, still looking down, "that I could go back to make sure I never ended up with him."

Dylan didn't say anything. He wasn't sure he was supposed to, so he let Marco continue. "I mean, all I've got to show from that damn relationship is cuts, bruises, and a few lasting scars."

"I know," said Dylan softly, crossing the street with him. "Let's get something to eat."

Marco had to admit he was hungry. He'd been too nervous and depressed to consume anything all day, and his body didn't quite agree with that idea. "Have you ever been to that place before?" he asked, pointing to the restaurant down the block.

"No, I've pretty much lived at The Dot," he said, chuckling.

"Let's go there. We won't see anyone we know," said Marco, walking more quickly toward the unknown place.

Marco and Dylan were seated at a table towards the back, and they agreed it was a nice enough place to come back to.

"Maybe they put us back here because they realize we're gay," said Marco suspiciously.

Dylan couldn't contain the laugh he let out, but realized that Marco was completely serious, so he sobered up. "You've become so paranoid, Marco," he said gently, reaching out to touch him, but Marco backed away immediately. "That only proves my point," he said sadly, trying not to be offended by Marco's not-so-subtle move.

"So, you're still afraid of it?" asked Dylan. "I thought you'd become more accepting of yourself," he said, taking a sip of his water.

"Guess you were wrong," said Marco, shrugging. He refused to look Dylan in the eyes. Out of embarrassment or pain, he wasn't sure.

"Marco," said Dylan, getting Marco to finally glance again at the older boy's face. "Please look at me."

Marco struggled to, but he did so grudgingly. "Why?" he asked.

Dylan leaned forward a bit, reaching his hand up to push the hair out of his eyes. Marco visibly flinched.

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "Marco?"

"Just…" Marco knew he was being stupid. Dylan would never ever hit him. He'd had many chances during previous arguments, but he never had, and he never would. "Sorry," he muttered. He wasn't sure if he was apologizing for being afraid of him or for the strange sense that he'd done something wrong that he would be punished for. Damnit, if he heard he was paranoid one more time, he'd scream.

Dylan looked hurt. "Marco, I'm not Corey," he said firmly.

"I know," said Marco. "I—I know!" he said, raising his voice. For the first time, no one turned to look at him because of the disruption.

"Then, why do you sometimes treat me like I'm going to reach out and hit you!" said Dylan. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm being insensitive. I am trying to—"

"You're not. God, I don't know, Dylan." Marco's voice broke as he tried to speak. "I want to leave."

"We can't just—"

"Leave, please?"

Dylan sighed. Dealing with Marco was going to be a lot more difficult than he'd thought. "Let me just…talk to the waiter, then. You wait outside."

Marco did as was told, and waited outside of the restaurant, leaning against the wall for support. His friends said he could trust Dylan, and, well, they always seemed to know best when it came to Corey. Hell, he even knew he could trust Dylan, but for some reason, he wasn't doing it.

He also felt like he'd had this talk with himself far too many times. "Hey," said Dylan, coming up behind him.

Marco managed to only jump a bit. "Are we going now?" he asked.

"Guess so," Dylan replied, moving to put his arm around him.

"Umm…could you not?" asked Marco. He tried to make Dylan understand that he wasn't shooing his arm away, but Dylan still didn't understand. "It just hurts there," he told him, annoyed that he had to spell it out for him.

"Oh," said Dylan. "Oh, right." Dylan never liked to get on the topic of Marco's injuries.

"You know," said Marco, walking back across the street with his companion, "if you're interested in starting something with me, you're going to have to be more open about my…issues."

"They're not your issues. They're Corey's," Dylan spat his name out like a curse word.

"He caused them, yes," said Marco sympathetically, "but, Dylan, I understand if you're not ready to be with me, someone who's not…whole anymore, not trusting or eve—"

Dylan cut him off with a kiss. "I'm never ready for anything," said Dylan with a slight laugh after he'd pulled away, "but I'm not walking away from this."

"Neither am I."

Author's Note: Yeah, so I can't believe it ended there. Perhaps I'll write a follow-up, but not now. I've got way too much going on lol. Pleeeeease review :)