My dad's annoyed at me for 'staring at screens all day' so I've brought my laptop outside and am now sat by a waterfall writing. Oh, the joys of being the middle child, my little brother can merrily sit in his room for 14 hours a day playing Minecraft with the curtains drawn and a packet of crackers and that's fine, but god forbid I watch telly while I'm being productive! Anywho, enjoy.

Trigger warnings: Mention of suicide, Sex. 

Andy picks up a mug in each hand, passing them to Remington carefully and raising an eyebrow. "Thanks," he says, amused, and picks up two more to carry himself. When he turns back around, Remington is staring right at him.

Remington is unfocused on what is in his hands. He blinks mechanically.

"Are you having a stroke?" Andy asks jokingly. "Remington? Hello?"

The boy blinks again and his gaze shifts down at the cupboards beside Andy. "Huh?"

"What's going on? You keep spacing out. Are you okay? Your head's not, like, doing shit?"

"What? No." He turns and takes the drinks through to the living room, leaving Andy rather disappointed, though he follows Remington without mentioning it. They hand the mugs to those who wanted a drink, and then Andy leaves the room and retreats back upstairs.

Beside his girlfriend, Remington sits stiff and unsettled. He keeps glancing at the door, paying no attention to the conversation that's happening around him. Amber nudges him at some point to get his attention and he asks what it is. Sebastian then asks, "is Andy okay?"

"How should I know?" The singer answers rather rudely.

"Well, where's he gone?"

"Upstairs." He sighs. "If I check he's okay, will you stop nagging me?"

"Not nagging, but yes. Do that."

Remington stands up and huffs. He sends an intentionally sarcastic smile to Amber before exiting and beginning up the stairs.

"Well, that was nice," Amber says dryly, "why does he do that?"

"Do what? Be a cock? It's a long story," says Sebastian, "it includes another cock, a shower, and a personality change."

"What?"

"Like I said, it's a long story."

The bedroom door is closed. Remington knocks before opening it and Andy lifts his head from his phone. "Uh...hi," the younger says.

Andy raises an eyebrow. "Hi," he returns, "do you need something?"

"Need something?" Remington echoes unsurely.

The man nods. "Or did they send you to check I'm not foaming at the mouth again?" The question is bitter. "You can tell them I'm fine, okay?" He looks at his phone again. "Also, they took all the pills, so..." The way his voice lowers at the end sounds intimidating to Remington. He likes it. "Seriously, are you alright? You keep being strange."

"Strange?" His innocence makes Andy want to smile.

"Yeah, strange. You still haven't told me what you're doing here."

Remington steps into the room. "I, uh, wanted to say something."

"Okay, what is it?"

He shifts his weight from foot to foot.

"Well?" Andy prompts, wanting to hear what he knows Remington won't say to him.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Making you..."

"You already apologised for this, love. I said that it's okay, remember?"

"No, I-I know, but...I want you to know that I really do mean it."

Andy hums. "I know you do. Thank you." He puts his phone down. "While you're here, can you do me a favour?"

"Okay."

Now, Andy sits up straight and crosses his legs. He tilts his head and says, "close the blinds."

Remington looks at the large window, hesitating before crossing the room and pulling the blinds down. He can feel Andy watching him as he returns rather uncertainly to the door, which is half open, and stands still while Andy gets off the bed and approaches.

The man stops close to Remington, reaching out to push the door shut. "Good boy," he says in that low voice.

Remington swallows and keeps from making eye contact. He backs against the door. "What're you doing?" He then asks.

"Nothing," Andy whispers. "Do you want me to be doing something?"

"Such as?"

"Whatever you like, sunshine."

Slowly, Remington lifts his gaze to meet Andy's intense blue eyes. He gulps again.

"You can play at being straight all you like," the elder purrs, faces barely apart. He can hear Remington's increasingly shaky breaths. "I know you aren't. I know you're desperate for a man's touch." He puts a light hand to the younger's cheekbone. "So am I."

Remington tips his head back until it hits the door. "You're wrong," he mumbles unconvincingly, trying hard not to let his hips move into Andy's.

The man hums lowly. "Am I?"

"Yes."

"What about if I do this?" Andy moves his hand down and wraps it around Remington's throat, the same way he's done many times before. "I know how you work, baby. You may have forgotten, but I certainly have not." With his other hand, he draws a line up Remington's arm and across his collar bone.

Remington breathes out as calmly as he can, all things considered. "You're wrong," he says again. His voice wavers.

At that, Andy gives him a smirk. "No I'm not," he murmurs, tightening his grip on the boy's throat and leaning in to kiss his jaw.

"Stop," Remington says, and Andy does, releasing him and stepping back.

Then Remington grabs his face with both hands and kisses him hard.

Andy reciprocates without such hesitation, of course. He grinds against Remington and puts a hand beneath his thigh when the singer lifts his leg around Andy's waist.

The first to moan is Remington, mainly out of the relief of finally being able to feel how he's supposed to feel. His other leg is lifted by Andy and he's pressed against the wall, firm hands holding him up, and they kiss like there's no tomorrow.

Downstairs, they begin to wonder what's taking Remington so long, and so Emerson goes up to see what's going on. He'd have to be hard of hearing and stupid to not know what's happening on the other side of the door, and without disturbing them, he goes back down and says, "so they're fucking."

Everyone's heads snap up at the information. "Oh, thank god," Sebastian remarks, "I've never been so happy to know that."

"They're what?" Amber asks, shocked at both the news and the guitarist's reaction.

Emerson shrugs. "I mean, I could be wrong, but there's a lot of moaning going on, so..."

"And you're fine with that? He's my boyfriend!"

"I think Andy wins that one," Sebastian says with a laugh.

"Sorry?"

"Being Rem's husband. I think he wins."

"Sorry, what? Husband? And no one was gonna tell me?"

The brothers exchange looks. "Well then we'd have to have told you that your boyfriend is also brain damaged and suffering memory loss, that Andy attempted suicide twice in one week, and honestly how have you not noticed the sexual tension between them? It could have been cut with a knife. At points, I swear I thought they were gonna fucking have right there."

There's a crash from upstairs because Andy has lifted Remington onto the chest of drawers, swiping his arm across the surface to clear it of the jewellery and makeup that's there. Remington has a handful of Andy's hair and he pulls on it as Andy kisses his neck and his jaw and his collar bones.

"This is unbelievable," Amber says, listening to the noise from through the ceiling. "And very awkward. I've got to spend the night here."

"At least you can have the spare bed now."

"I can't even be mad, I had suspicions."

"Of Remington being brain damaged?"

"No, idiot. Of him being gay."

Andy pulls Remington's shirt off, removing his own after and letting the younger feel him with excited hands. "You're turned on, see," he murmurs, "feels good, doesn't it?"

Remington nods quickly.