Breakdown.

Five days had passed since Dylan left his tour to be with me. I had moved back into the house - our house- of course, along with Bonez, and we had completely isolated ourselves from the outside world. My phone was still turned off and I hadn't bothered calling Kayla or even my parents, though I knew the wouldn't worry. They lived in New Port, a short drive away from L.A., but we only saw each other on holidays. They knew I was a busy woman, either working or visiting Dylan on tour, and thankfully, they could accept my lifestyle.

I could see the brightness of the sun blocked by the dark curtains covering the windows. Dylan laid on his back beside me, his chest rising and falling evenly. It was only ten AM, but I had been awake for hours. I gently trailed the tip of my finger across the bare skin of his upper torso and sighed.

He was back and yes, it was wonderful, but it wasn't the same. He took care of me as if I were completely helpless, which made me feel as if I were permanently crippled. I knew it was only out of the goodness of his heart, though.

We couldn't have sex due to the miscarriage, and to top it all off, my doctor had decided to run all sorts of tests on me. He wanted to make sure that it really was stress that had caused my body to go against me, and that there wasn't something severely wrong with myself. And even though Dylan had yet to mention it, I knew he would be leaving again sometime soon. When he had canceled the tour, he still had a month and a half left of dates. If they didn't make the dates up, the band would more than likely lose a handful of fans, and it would be entirely my fault.

I shifted against the mattress, pushing a hand threw my dark matted hair. I didn't want to be the reason they canceled a tour, yet I was. Not only would Dylan be leaving to deal with that, but the band had also planned to start recording their second CD after this last tour was finished.

I pulled myself from the bed and swung my legs to the floor, careful not to make much noise. Dylan was still sleeping like an infant as I slipped into the bathroom. I started the shower and stripped off my clothes before stepping into the spray of warm water. I made no movements for awhile, and simply let the water soak me as I stood still with my arms dangling at my sides. I stared blankly at the shower wall in front of me, lost in thought.

I had known Dylan all of my life, and it was almost weird to think about. He knew me when I had braces, wore a training bra, and would listen to my Backstreet Boys CD's on my walk-man. Before I was a model and before he was Funny Man.

Jorel, Jordon, Dylan and I went to school together since we were six, but I didn't start actually hanging out with them until middle school. We mat Aron and Matt in seventh grade, and George once we got to high school. I met Kayla during my Sophomore year because, at the time, she liked Jorel. Her crush was short-lived.

I dated Aron for a whole week during tenth grade before we realized how weird it was. And then, halfway through our Junior year, Dylan and I got together. There was no romantic cutesy story behind it, it was always just meant to happen.

And now here I am at twenty-four. Standing in our shower and lost in the past. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time to the simpler days. Like before when Dylan was still just Dylan Alvarez and I was just Breana Saunders. Now, we were two completely different people.

I lathered some shampoo into my hair and scrubbed roughly at my scalp. I quickly rinsed the suds out of my hair and finished the rest of my shower. I wrapped a towel around myself and washed away the steam on the mirror with the palm of my hand. I stared at my reflection, noticing how my hair sat around my shoulders in wet, tangled waves. My skin looked much paler than usual after not leaving the house at all for awhile, and I had light purple bags under my eyes.

I exited the bathroom, dried myself off, and pulled on some comfortable clothes before crawling back into bed. Dylan's eyes were still closed, though I knew he would be waking up soon.

I gently ran my hand over his unruly brown hair as I sat with my back pressed against the pillows. A low groan rumbled his throat, and his eyelids fluttered open a moment later. He quickly curled his hand into a fist and began rubbing the sleep away from his view.

"Good morning." I smirked.

He grumbled and buried his face into his pillow. Grumpy Man always made an appearance in the mornings.

"What time is it?" He mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow.

I sat up straighter and looked towards the alarm clock, then back down at him. "Eleven-thirty."

At my response, he groaned loudly and extra dramatically. I snickered and leaned down, placing quick kisses on his cheek and down the back of his neck.

"I have a meeting today." He stated lowly, letting his eyes shut briefly.

I laid down beside him and curled into his side. "For what?"

He yawned, stretching his long arms out, and blinked tiredly before looking down at me. "I gotta meet with the guys, figure out about recording and when we can finish up that tour."

An uncomfortable feeling bubbled in the pit of my stomach. He sat up, resting against the pillows, and added, "You should come."

I quickly whipped my head towards him. He was obviously unfazed by his own words as he reached for the remote and flipped the T.V. on.

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he didn't notice.

I hadn't seen or even asked about the guys since they got back. I could only assume that they knew about mine and Dylan's situation since they had been willing to post-pone the rest of their tour. I felt like a horrible friend.

The bed dipped and I snapped out of my thoughts. Dylan was digging through the closet. Finally, he settled on a pair of camo shorts and a black Dead Cultoure shirt, his usual attire on most days. He dressed quickly and pulled on a pair of classic black and white Vans before turning to me.

It was already warm in the house due to the usual L.A. weather outside, but when my eyes locked onto his dark ones, I felt my cheeks heat up even more. I felt giddy whenever we were together. It was as if we were in high school again.

"You coming?"

I ran a hand over my damp hair and bit the inside of my cheek, wondering if I was capable of seeing our friends right now. I still felt ashamed of myself, and weak.

I sighed lowly. "You gonna be at Jordy's?" He nodded and I slipped out of bed, stating, "I'll meet you there. I need to get dressed and stuff."

Again, he nodded his head, but this time I noticed the small smile tugging at his lips. He kissed me goodbye before exiting our bedroom, and I heard the front door shut only a few moments later.

I groaned as I made my way towards the closet. I took the heat into consideration and found an outfit. Once dressed, I stepped back into the bathroom and brushed my teeth, then applied a minimal yet necessary amount of make-up. I pulled my hair up and away from my face.

Even though I had grown up with these people, I didn't know if I could face them. There was no point in being embarrassed around these guys because we were always fucking around with each other. But this was serious. George had Ava and Danny had Scarlet, so Dylan and I had seen first-hand how hard it is to have a child when it comes to the long tours, ten hour recording sessions, photo-shoots, interviews, etc. It's hard, end of story.

I clutched the steering wheel tighter and I came to a stop at a red-light. Jordon didn't live very far away from Dylan and I, but the drive seemed to take forever.

My window was down and I ran a shaky hand down my cheek as I felt the warm breeze smack against my skin.

There was a dozen cars parked up and down Jordon's street, and I ended up having to park a block or so away. I figured he was having a Welcome Home party for himself, as well as a quick meeting with the guys to discuss recording and the tour.

I noticed George and Matt first. They stood on the sidewalk in front of Jordon's house, smoking, with their backs turned to me. An evil smile curled at my lips as I quickened my pace.

I lept onto George's back, causing him to drop his cigarette. I squealed girlishly, "Georgie!"

"Bree!" Matt cheered and grinned.

George pried my arms off him and let me drop to the concrete. He sent me a fake glare, but couldn't hide the smile that threatened to blow his cover, and pulled me into a tight hug. He, out of all of the guys, was most like a protective older brother to me.

"Miss me?" I chirped, inhaling his familiar scent. Cigarettes and laundry detergent.

He pulled away and ruffled my hair, replying, "Of course."

I pouted at his sarcasm until I felt Matt's lanky arm drape over my shoulders. "Don't worry, Bree, I missed you!" He grinned even wider, his bright blue eyes sparkling. His hair was much shorter than it had been before and, for once, he wasn't wearing a beanie.

The two men led me inside, but I didn't get far with them. I spotted a very familiar blond standing in the kitchen with a mister Jorel Decker and I practically tackled her.

I hadn't grown up with Vanessa, but I had known her for a very long time, even before Jorel. She was actually the person who got me into modeling. When I met her, I had just dropped out of UCLA, and Hollywood Undead existed, but only on Myspace.

I never wanted to model. As a matter of fact, I never even thought I was pretty enough to do it. But Vanessa insisted. She started Sugarfix, then came my favorite, Pride, and then Dead Cultoure. I've done a lot.

"I've missed you!" She squealed, squeezing the air out of me as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

"I know!" I breathed, a soft smile spreading across my lips.

It was true. I had missed Vanessa and the boys. But if I would have told her about my little situation, she most definitely would've told Jorel who would have passed it on to Dylan. Vanessa was one of my very best friends but I just couldn't trust her with this information, though.

But I'm sure she knew now.

"Hey, be careful with my woman." I could hear Dylan chuckle.

As Vanessa released me from her death grip, I was pulled into Dylan's side. He placed a kiss on the side of my head and continued to hold me with his hand rested on my hip.

Vanessa snickered, and Dylan quickly added, "She's in delicate condition."

My smile quickly turned into a frown at his comment and I glared up at him.

'Thank you, Doctor Alvarez.'

It was true that I was in "delicate condition," as Dylan so thoughtfully put it. My doctor didn't want me to exercise or walk too much, at least until the bleeding stopped. With that being said, Dylan felt the need to treat me like a child. For the first two days after he came home, I wasn't allowed to do anything except lay in bed or on the couch. It was quite nice at first, but quickly became boring.

Dylan sipped the beer he was holding onto, and I pushed his words as far away from my mind as possible while we chatted and hung out with our friends. While we were there, it had been decided that the boys would begin recording within the next few days and they would reschedule the canceled tour dates for next month in December. They would be done by January ninth and could then finish recording after wards.

Vanessa also asked if I would model some of the new merchandise for Sugarfix. Dylan didn't seem pleased when I agreed, but I ignored him. Maybe getting back into work would take my mind off of everything going on.

I had to admit that it felt good to be around everyone again. They were my family, and maybe I needed to realize that they would all be here for me no matter what.