Disclaimer: I do not own anything Degrassi.

Author's Note: Okie dokie. This story just kinda popped into my head one day and I had to write it down, this story is also due to my obsession of Degrassi and the fact that I get extremely obsessed and crazy and hyper in general. Short chapters, blame my laziness to add length. Short-ish, sadness, some angst(I can't help but have drama in my story) sweet, slash(MarcoDylan WHOOO!) If you don't like slash, don't proceed to read on. Alrighty, I hope you enjoy.

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"What are you thinking about?"

Marco Del Rossi blinked his dark eyes, jolting out of a dazed daydream. He mumbled under Dylan Michalchuk's baby blue gaze, "Sorry, must have spaced." The older boy chuckled, "Am I that boring?"

Marco shook his head quickly, "No! No, I'm really, really, sorry."

They were on another date at the Dot Grill, in a quiet unnoticeable little corner, on a Friday evening.

Dylan snorted, but was smiling, "You panic way too easily. You need to relax." His large hand slipped under the table and firmly yet gently took Marco's into his own. His thumb stroked his hand, bringing shivers down the other boy's arm. They were good shivers. Their eyes met and Marco smiled slightly, not wanting this moment to leave him. The blonde said with a mocking smirk, "Better?" He nodded, though his heart was skipping with anticipation. Dylan continued satisfied, "Good. I can't have my boyfriend having a seizure every time he thinks he's made a mistake."

Marco's mind was whirling, 'Boyfriend!?'

The elder boy frowned, "I shouldn't have said-"

Marco blinked, his heart sinking, "You mean, you don't want to-"

Dylan explained, "I just don't want to rush you into anything. I don't want to push." The darker boy nodded understandingly, "Yeah, but, I want an relationship. A . . .solid relationship."

He asked in all seriousness, "Are you sure?"

Marco nodded again, "Yes. With you." Blush ran up his face as he said it. Dylan replied, "If you are sure."

Marco could see his eyes sparkling with joy, and he was alleviated.

The blonde suggested, "Hey, would you like to go for a walk?" Marco agreed and they stepped out into a dimly lit park, quietly beside each other and their hands brushed up against one another's. They didn't need words, just each other's presence. At some point, Marco glimpsed around the shadows, a part of him felt as if he was being watched. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.

Dylan suddenly cried out, "Oh shit, I forgot my bag at the Dot! Marco, I'll be right back! Wait here!"

He took off and the other boy murmured, "O-Ok," not at all thrilled that he was being left alone, when he was already feeling freaked out. Marco stood in the semi dark, peering around and wrapped his arms around; shuddering. A cold breeze blew through, even though he had on long sleeves, he couldn't shake off the feeling; like ice was being poured down his spine.

That 'being watched' feeling grew.

Pounding footsteps sounded behind him and he swirled around, voice cracking, "H-Hello?"

There was voices and several black figures issued from the nearby street. . . .they looked familiar. Frighteningly familiar.

Marco's blood ran cold, it was the guys that had beaten him up a while ago. They began yelling at him, their words cut through him, piercing his soul. He ran for it, dashing through the darkness of the park, running from the memories of physical and mental torment. But they caught him.

Meanwhile, Dylan returned with his hockey bag slung over his broad shoulder, and saw that Marco was no where to be seen. He shouted his name several times and got no answer, a bad feeling crawled over his emotions.

Dylan sprinted by a few lighted areas, he crossed a woodchip playground and saw huddling outlines, laughing and hollering.

Someone was being kicked.

In his heart, he knew what was going on.

Dylan yelled, dashing over, "HEY! HEY!"

They saw him and retreated, making a clear break for it. He could have gone after them if he hadn't seen Marco on the ground.

He was curled up in a ball, sobbing and quivering uncontrollably. Dylan knelt down, setting his bag aside, "Oh God, Marco, are you ok?" The younger boy threw himself at him, wetting the front of his shirt with tears. Dylan held his trembling form and whispered, "It will be ok. I'm here. It will be ok."