Author's Note: I probably shouldn't be starting this because I'm not sure if it'll get somewhere, but I'm going to try. So, I felt like writing Crarco. Please enjoy and review :) Me being the crazy Darco fan I am, it killed me, I mean broke my own heart, when I started breaking them up in this chapter. (Tear)

"You told him to go into rehabilitation, El," said Marco reasonably, sipping his coffee while he typed his report. "Don't complain that he's not here."

"He needed it," said Ellie, sitting on the countertop next to him. "Besides, it just annoys me that he doesn't call, and if he does, he only calls you."

Marco rolled his eyes, letting himself become distracted from his paper for a moment. "That's because he's afraid you hate him, and he's mad you made him go away," he said, trying to sympathize as best he could.

"But he calls Father Marco when he needs help," she said, rolling her eyes. She looked down at her swinging legs. "Dylan called this morning."

"Did he?" asked Marco, surprised. He hadn't heard from him in days, and it had only been a short conversation. "I wasn't here?"

"Yeah, he said, 'hey, Ellie, it's Dylan,' and I told him I knew, and he said 'look, tell him I need him to call me back. I'll be around'."

"Oo-okay," said Marco, sounding concerned. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket slowly, dialing the number from memory.

"Hi," said Marco. "Thi—this is Marco. Can I talk to Dylan?" he asked nervously. He couldn't stand talking to those other men.

"Sure," said the boy. After a moment of shuffling, Dylan was on the phone, and the voices stopped. Marco assumed he wasn't in the room with them.

"Hey, Marco," said Dylan. His voice sounded grave. This wasn't going to be a good conversation. "How are you?"

"Okay, I guess," he said, walking out of the kitchen. Ellie saw his worried face, and she frowned. Suddenly, the little Craig problem seemed like nothing. She did have a boyfriend, after all.

"Good," said Dylan. "Listen, Marco…we haven't been able to talk much lately."

"You've been busy," said Marco quickly. "I understand."

"I just heard about your poker issue," said Dylan.

"You just heard?" Marco asked incredulously, opening the door to their bedroom.

"Yeah, news travels pretty slowly from Canada to Switzerland, but that's kind of what I mean," said Dylan. "I love you so much, Marco."

"Don't—don't say that…that way," said Marco. He'd played this same conversation over and over again since the day Dylan decided to believe. He was not about to make it real.

"I just don't think I can handle everything with a long distance relationship anymore, Marco," he said. He sounded as though he wanted to shove the words right back into his mouth.

Marco swallowed, painfully, the lump that had formed in his throat. It was something he'd imagined, and everyone had told him for so long it wouldn't happen. It couldn't happen. Oh, but it was happening.

"And hockey…hockey is really that important to you?" asked Marco, close to crying.

"Yes, Marco…I mean, I can't imagine life without it," he said dreamily.

"But you can apparently imagine it clearly without me," said Marco, his tears now flowing freely.

"I didn't mean it like that, Marco," said Dylan, sighing. He didn't want it to be so painful for either one of them, but it seemed like there was no truly easy way to do this. "It's just…this is my dream, and you'll kind of get in the way of that…Marco, I didn't—"

"Bye," said Marco, hanging up, and turning the phone off immediately. You'll kind of get in the way of that. Marco couldn't get the terrible words out of his head.

"Marco," said Ellie, gently knocking on his door. Marco was afraid she could hear his crying, so he put his head in the pillow, ignoring her.

After five minutes of her persistence, he finally reached. "Go away, Ellie!" he shouted.

Ellie, having never heard him so upset before, thought about staying to help him about, but decided to leave him alone. Obviously, something bad had happened, and she feared the worst.

The next morning, Marco awoke in the same position, in the same clothes, not feeling particularly refreshed. He sat up, taking a look at himself in the full-length mirror. His eyes were red, his cheeks tear-stained and blotchy.

Marco walked out into the kitchen, looking at his laptop. He rubbed his eyes wearily, angry that he didn't get more of his paper done. He still had the weekend to do it, but he liked to finish his work before Saturday.

"Hey," said Ellie, awake at such an abnormal time for the redhead. "Didn't get much sleep, did you?" she asked, sitting down on the couch, motioning for him to sit down next to her.

"Dylan and I broke up," he said brokenly. He couldn't believe this was happening to him after everything he and Dylan had been through.

Ellie put her hand on his shoulder, wondering what she could possibly do to make him feel better, but coming up with nothing, she left her hand on his shoulder while he cautiously changed the subject.

"Well, Craig finally called me back," she said pleasantly, hoping to raise his spirits. Marco said nothing, simply staring ahead at the black television screen. "He's on his way here…going to be staying with us for the week. Joey gave his permission," she went on. There was still no positive response from Marco. "Joey also said he's doing a lot better. Hasn't seen hide nor hair of any kind of drug."

"Good," Marco mumbled. "Ellie, not to be rude, but—"

"You want me to leave you alone," she finished for him. Marco nodded apologetically. She removed her hand off of his shoulder. "Well, I surmised as much. I'll be upstairs if you should need me."

"Ellie, wait," said Marco, making her turn around. "When is he coming?"

"Well, he had an early flight this morning," she said. "He'll probably be here in," she shrugged, "a few hours? One of us will have to pick him up at the airport, of course."

And, of course, that person ended up being Marco. Ellie would have gladly done it, but Marco knew how uncomfortable it would have made her feel, considering what happened between them the last time they saw each other. She would, of course, have to spend time with him at the house, but she said it would be easier for her with Marco there.

Marco put his book down on the seat next to him to check his watch. It was past twelve-thirty, and Craig's plane was due at twelve. He sighed, impatiently, tapping his foot while he picked up his book again.

"Hey," said Craig, standing in front of him. Marco smiled slightly into his book, putting it down again. He stood up to hug his friend tightly.

"Hey, Craig," said Marco as happily as he could manage, but Craig saw through it.

"What's wrong?" he asked, letting him go.

Marco stood in front of him, clothes wrinkled, eyes red, and the fakest smile plastered on his delicate face. "I'm fine."

"You lie," said Craig immediately, frowning, concerned for his friend. "What happened?"

"Dylan…he's done with me," said Marco, tired of saying it aloud.

Craig didn't ask for more, understanding Marco's reluctance to speak about it. He merely threw his arm around Marco's shoulder protectively, and said, "Just don't kiss me this time," hoping to bring a smile to the other boy's face.

"Welcome home, Craig," Marco said, allowing a tiny grin to make its way onto his face.

Author's Note: Please review :)