Disclaimer: I do not own anything Degrassi.
Raindrops and Cloudless Skies
Raindrops and Cloudless Skies
"What are you thinking about?"
Marco Del Rossi blinked his dark eyes, snapping 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 blond said with a smirk, "Better?" Marco nodded, though his heart was skipping with anticipation. "Good. I can't have my boyfriend having a seizure."
Marco's mind was whirling... 'Boyfriend!'
"I shouldn't have said-" Dyan noticed his expression. 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."
"Yeah, but, I want an relationship. A... solid relationship."
Dylan asked in all seriousness, "Are you sure?"
"Yes. With you." Blush ran up his face as Marco said it.
"If you are sure."
Marco could see his blues eyes sparkling with joy, and he was relieved.
The blond 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.
"Oh shit," Dylan cursed, "I forgot my bag at the Dot! Marco, I'll be right back! Wait here!"
He took off and the other boy murmured, "O-Okay," 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 wrapping his arms around. 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 whirled 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.
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. He 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.
They saw him yelling and retreated, making a clear break for it. Dylan could have gone after them if he hadn't seen Marco on the ground. The Italian boy was curled up in a ball on his side to the grass, sobbing and quivering uncontrollably. Dylan knelt down, setting his bag aside, "Oh God, Marco, are you okay?" Marco threw himself at him, wetting the front of his shirt with tears. Dylan held his trembling form against him and whispered into his ear, "It will be okay. I'm here... it will be okay."