Author's Note: I am working on the next chapter of Breaking the Attachment. It was held up due to last minute projects and a murder on my block. Yes, it was the scariest thing that ever happened in my life. Everything is okay now, but I suddenly got the idea for another story. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but…it won't be. Enjoy.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Driiiii—

Marco stared, transfixed, as one drop from the water faucet took a while to fall, finally splashing, completely the 'ip.'

He sighed. Drip. Drip.

"Marco," called Ellie from behind the door, knocking gently. "Is the door locked?" she asked.

Marco didn't answer, so Ellie tried on her own, finding it open. She looked down at his pathetic blob of a self leaning against the sink. She slid down next to her friend, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Be alive," she said encouragingly.

Marco looked up at her in disbelief. "He finally answered my call, but he said he had to call me back at four," said Marco, holding up his cell phone with the time clearly shown on it.

"It's five-thirty," she said knowingly, shaking her head.

"Now, I can't do anything until he calls because then, I'll get distracted by something else and miss his call," he said.

Though Ellie doubted anything could make Marco miss a call from Dylan, she sympathized, not saying a word against it. "He'll call," she promised, hoping to God that he would.

Ellie and Marco sat in the bathroom for another twenty minutes in silence before Marco spoke up. "When, exactly, did you say he would call?"

Ellie was becoming extremely angry herself with Dylan's lack of communication. She hated to see her friend so down, and she didn't know what to say anymore. "I didn't. I just said he would," she said simply, standing up.

"Ah, man, doesn't your back hurt?" she asked, gesturing to his position, his head on the sink and his legs against the wall by the toilet. Marco didn't answer. "Your back? Legs…okay," she paused, "you want me to pick up something for dinner because you don't look like you want to cook?"

He shrugged, opening his phone to check if maybe, just maybe, it forgot to ring. Ellie smiled sadly while he checked and rechecked, closing it soundly afterwards, looking much more upset than before he'd opened it. Apparently, the phone hadn't forgotten.

Ellie left the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She walked into the kitchen, and picked up the phone to order pizza for them.

"Ellie," said Paige, getting up from the living room couch, "did Alex get back?" she asked.

Ellie pointed to the phone on her ear, and Paige waited impatiently for Ellie to finish ordering. She would have probably interrupted if she didn't realize that she was getting food for them to eat.

"Paige," Ellie started after hanging up, "if Alex came in, you'd have been the first to see her. You are sitting by the door."

"Oh, yes," she laughed. "Silly me."

She walked back to the couch, tapping her foot nervously. Ellie rolled her eyes. Had she and Alex had some sort of a fight or something?

When she went into the bathroom to check on Marco, she saw that he was no longer in there. She raised her eyebrow, walking into his bedroom instead.

"Hey," she said, trying not to laugh since he was not in a good mood. The sight was quite amusing, though. Marco, being slightly obsessive compulsive, had a tendency to straighten the bed sheets. When he was nervous, like he was, he usually decided to straighten everything else as well.

"Hi," he said, flattening the curtains on the window.

"I'm guessing he hasn't called," she said slowly, wondering why she even said it. Obviously, he hadn't.

"You're very insightful," he said, irritated.

He finally let the curtains alone, falling back onto his bed feebly. "Ellie, I miss him so much."

"I noticed. See? Insightful, remember?" she teased, sitting down next to him. "Don't make yourself sick over it, though. Don't think I didn't notice your little vomiting escapade in the bathroom this morning. Actually, that's been your home for the past couple of days."

"Dylan's not making me sick," said Marco, rolling his eyes. "It's just…he's so far away, and…well, remember what happened to Craig and Ash? She met someone, and she told you by email, and we all hid it from him until it was let out on his birthday. I mean, what if that happens to me?"

"It won't, Marco," said Ellie confidently. "Your birthday just passed. I'm kidding!" she said, getting an evil glare from her depressed friend. "I'm serious, though. It won't happen. Dylan loves you."

"He'll leave me for a guy with an accent. Do you know what accents can do to people, Ellie? Do you know?"

"No, I really don't," said Ellie, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "What can they do, Marco?"

Unfortunately, Marco was so distressed that he didn't realize she understood. He explained dutifully. "They can do many things, El. They can make Dylan fall…like for that Juliet guy or whatever his name—"

"Juliet?" Ellie asked, ashamedly amused by his anger.

"It might as well have been his name! Anyhow, there are going to be plenty of guys like him falling all over my star of a boyfriend," he said quickly. "How am I going to compete?"

"You're not," said Ellie, "because Dylan won't make you. He doesn't care about any guy but you. You have to realize that!"

"Sure, but I…" he hesitated, turning back to his cell phone, still faithfully gripped in his hand.

"You…?" she prompted, seeing that he wasn't going to continue with his sentence.

"Nothing. Forget it," he said with a tone of conclusiveness.

Ellie didn't have time (or any interest) to question him further because of the knock on the bedroom door.

"Yeah?" asked Marco.

"Alex and pizza are here," said Paige, walking away immediately. She knew Marco was moody.

"Wanna go eat?" she asked, taking his hand. He nodded, turning the volume on his phone up just in case his chewing would be so loud that he wouldn't be able to hear if Dylan called.

"Ellie!" Marco yelled, attempting the pry the door open with his hands. "Please, you have never been the type to take," he paused, trying to magically unlock it, "hour long showers. Let me throw up a couple of times," he felt himself getting dizzy, "and I'll be out of your way."

"Wow," said Paige, showing up behind him with a smile on her face. "You control when you throw up?" she asked. "Impressive."

"Not exactly. I just…I know the exact amount of time I have to wait because when I feel like I'm going to throw up, it's usually a false alarm until—Ellie, please!"

"I'm out," she said, flinging the door open, a towel wrapped around her body. She walked past both of them, and before Paige could utter a word, Marco slammed the door.

Paige sat back against the bathroom door, debating about whether or not she should leave him be or talk to him. She covered her ears to block out the sound, feeling utterly disgusted by it all.

"Hon," she finally said, knocking lightly. "Marco, honey, can I come in?" she asked.

There was no answer for a few minutes, so she decided to take it as a 'no'. Finally, (she assumed he had to wait until he was done with business) he told her that she could enter if she so desired.

She walked into the bathroom, trying not to breathe through her nose without making it incredibly obvious.

Marco sat with his face in his hands, talking to himself in gibberish. Paige smiled despite the sad situation.

"Dooon't be sad," she cooed, running her hand up and down his back. "So, flu?"

"I don't know what it is, but what do you think," asked Marco, "would make Dylan inclined to come home?"

Paige looked at him, confused.

"Oh, I mean, there's bronchitis, pneumonia, flu…or that bird flu!" he counted off the sicknesses on his fingers with a serious look.

"Marco, are you forcing yourself to be sick because of his leaving? Is this a conscious effort of yours?" she asked, not believing he'd ever do something so deceitful.

"First of all, that's not really possible. Second of all, I was already sick, but it would be nice," he said, lifting his exhausted self from the floor, trying not to swallow the intoxicating taste of vomit, "if I got so sick that he had to come back to help."

"Marco…"

"No, I'd never do it, though, Paige," he rolled his eyes. "I probably have the stomach virus or something. It'll pass."

Paige let out a long breath. "I'm going to go help Alex get ready for school…but don't go far," she said. "I'll be back."

"Does she really need help?" he called out of the bathroom after she walked out.

Paige's laughter rang through the hallway, but she didn't reply.

In the early evening, Ellie brought some 'sick supplies' as she called them, home for Marco after school. He'd gone to his classes, of course. He couldn't afford to miss any important material, and he insisted to Ellie that he was fine, (which he really was by the end of the day) but she refused to take a hint. She also worried insanely because he decided to take a detour after his last class of the day to the drug store. She insisted he was deathly ill, which was actually quite unlike her.

After indulging some chicken soup, practically being spoon-fed, he went off to the bathroom again, leaning against the sink, and staring blankly into the gray store bag. He couldn't believe he was actually going to do this.

"Marco!" said Ellie, knocking on the door again. "Okay, I'm seriously worried about you, and you've been in there for almost twenty minutes—" Had it been that long? He'd only been waiting for the damn test to read positive or negative.

"Oh," he said, hearing his phone ring.

"He called!" yelled Ellie, knowing it was boy wonder. "I think you'll be okay now," she laughed, walking back to her room.

"Hey, Marco," said Dylan somewhat cheerfully, but sounding a bit apologetic as well. "I'm so sorry I didn't call you back last night. It's just I—"

"It's okay," said Marco, even though it wasn't.

"You sure?" he asked.

"No," said Marco. He didn't feel sure of much anything at that moment in time. "I miss you, Dyl."

"I miss you too, Marco," said Dylan lovingly. Marco smiled. It didn't matter how long he'd waited for the call because his voice made everything better. What could he say? He was in an emotional mood.

"Ho—how much time do you have to talk?" asked Marco, taking the dreaded item, that was about to change his life, into his hands.

"Only a few minutes. I'm sorry," he said, and Marco could tell he sounded sincere. "But, I'm going to come out to see you in a couple weeks."

"Mmm…" Somehow, that didn't make Marco feel much better about the distance. "And then I'll have, what, a day with you? Then, you'll go back 'home'?"

"Marco," Dylan started, "don't say that. Please. When you let a person do something they want to do, it makes that person just feel horrible and guilty when you throw stuff upon them like that."

"So, you wanted to get away from me?" he asked. Oh, honestly! Marco wanted to hit himself. Damn the damned hormones! He still refused to look at the pregnancy test in his hands. He just wanted to wait until he could think things through.

"You know that's not true. Is this what it'll be like for us now, every time we talk?" he asked. "Marco…"

"Dylan, I'm pregnant."

Author's Note: Okay, yeah…I probably should have warned you in the summary, but I didn't. Silly me. Anyway, please review :) Oh, and I also want to make it clear that, in case you weren't sure, this is fiction, so I really don't want to be told that men don't get pregnant. Okay? Imaaaagine. Lol.