Marco Del Rossi tossed and turned in his bed, tangling himself in the sheets, until finally, sighing in frustration, he flung off the covers, and pulled himself out of bed. He checked his watch.

3:30AM.

He sighed again and grabbed his cell off the dresser. He pulled the folded gray sweatshirt off the floor, and tugged it on, inhaling the remnants of his scent. Him being Dylan, his boyfriend. His boyfriend who was thousands of miles away, in Switzerland.

It was the understatement of the century saying he just "missed" Dylan Michalchuk. More accurately, he thought about him every second of every day, wore his sweatshirts just so he could smell his old cologne, checked his phone every hour to see if he'd left any texts or voicemails.

Marco pulled open his door, and tip-toed downstairs, trying to get downstairs as quiet as possible, as to not wake Ellie and Paige.

He made his way into the living room, and settled onto the couch in the dark. He reached over and flicked on the lamp.

Flipping open his phone, he smiled at his background. It was a picture of himself and Dylan. Dylan's arms were wrapped around Marco's shoulders, and they were both beaming. He wished more than anything that Dylan was here.

He knew it was selfish, and he knew it wouldn't be right to do that to Dylan. Because he knew that if he'd told Dylan to stay that day, he would've done it in a heartbeat.

Dylan was in Switzerland, fulfilling his dreams as a big hockey star. He was living his dream, while Marco was stuck, miserable, in a nightmare.

He tossed and turned every night, missing having someone lying next to him. Missing someone to kiss goodnight. Missing his love.

He dialed 3. He needed to hear Dylan's voice. It was the only thing that would soothe him enough to finally sleep.

Riiinnnnnggggggggggg...Riiinnnnnggggggggggg...Riiinnnnngggggggggg...Click. Marco crossed his fingers, praying Dylan would pick up. "Oh, please, please, pleeeeease..." He muttered.

"Hey, it's Dylan! Can't come to the phone, so leave a message. Thanks." Click. Marco held his breathe, waiting for the beep. Typical Dylan answering machine. Short and sweet.

Beep. "Hey Dylan...It's Marco...Sorry for calling so late...I can't sleep...Well, call me back. I--I love you. I miss you. Bye." He pressed end, and shut his phone.

He checked his watch again. 3:35AM.

Marco still couldn't sleep. He laid back against the couch, flicking off the light. He closed his eye for a moment.

His phone buzzed. He quickly checked it. Yes! Dylan!

"Hello?" He answered, breathless.

"Uh...hey Marco." Dylan's sweet voice said into the phone.

"Hey. What's up?"

Dylan sighed. "Listen Marco...I've done some thinking...And since I'm in Switzerland and you're in Toronto...I think its best if we, you know...see other people."

Marco could practically feel his heart breaking. "No...no...no...no!" He whispered over and over. Suddenly, a bright light washed over him.

"Marco! Yes, Marco, you have to wake up! Marco! Marco!"

Marco blearily opened his eyes, gasping. He was coated in cold sweat.

"Ellie?" He whispered.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Marco, it's me. Now get up! We have class in 15!"

Marco sat up. He quickly lifted his phone, and checked his call history, holding his breath. There was no call from Dylan. He sighed in relief. He'd just had that dream--nightmare--again.

"MARCO!" Ellie shouted from the stairs. He rolled his eyes. "OKAY EL! I'M COMING!" He yelled back.

He hurried upstairs, takings what felt like a two second shower. He dressed, trying his best to keep his mind off the cute, blond hockey player who'd taken over his entire thought process.

He made his way downstairs, seeing that he'd finished everything in five minutes flat. He sill had ten minutes.

Plopping down into a chair, he bit into an apple, and managed a smile at Paige, who was sitting across from him, eyeing him with interest.

"Um. Morning, Paige." He said nervously, feeling uncomfortable at the way she was staring at him.

Her stare quickly turned to a glare.

"Did I do something?" Marco wondered, eyeing the door in case he had to escape Paige's wrath.

"I'll have you know, Marco Del Rossi, that because you thought it wise to call my dear brother as the ungodly hour of three in the morning, he decided to call me at precisely 3:35 to ask if everything was alright. Care to explain, Marco?" She said casually, making Marco blush.

"I--I just couldn't sleep." He mumbled, avoiding her eyes, trying his hardest to ignore the fact that they were the exact same shade as Dylan's crystal blue ones. This didn't help.

"Marco," Her voice suddenly turned extra sugary-sweet. Marco could feel himself getting a cavity just by listening.

He chanced a glanced at her. Damn! She was pouting. And everyone know you had to be completely heartless to not give in to the Michalchuk puppy-pout.

He threw his hands in the air, raking his fingers through his dark hair. "Okay, okay...I...I needed to hear his voice last night, okay? I couldn't sleep...again." He mumbled incoherently.

Paige smiled deviously. "Sorry, hun? I couldn't hear you." A smiled played across her lips.

He groaned. "I--have to get to class." He grabbed his bag, and fled, ignoring Paige's cries for him to come back.

Forget it. From here on out, he'd accept the fact that Dylan was gone.

Or...He'd pretend anyway.