I've started publishing oneshots on Inkitt as well as cross-publishing this on Inkitt and AO3 if you prefer those platforms. Thanks so much for reading!!! 

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of suicide, self-harm, depression.

Upon the unfortunate discovery made by his awakening that he is not dead, Andy cries. Both Emerson and Sebastian are there, as well as Shy, and they do the best that they can to comfort Andy in his time of need, though it seems the only thing that could make Andy feel better is for the ending of his life to come.

By the time he's woken, after having his stomach pumped, the sun is rising and doctors are heard down the halls, conversing quietly with one another.

Andy is in tears all morning, refusing any sort of physical contact because it makes him feel too much like a burden. He'd rather be here alone.

Sebastian leaves the room at just after nine am, taking Emerson's car and driving to his brother's place to find Remington, who unsurprisingly is asleep, unaware of the situation. "Remington," he says loudly, switching on the light and opening the blinds. "Remington, lazy bastard, up."

The singer groans and opens his eyes, squinting. "What?" He asks, rubbing his eyes. "It's too early."

"No it's not. It's half nine. Get up."

"Why?"

"Because your husband fucking needs you before he overdoses for the third time. Up. Now."

Remington reluctantly gets out of bed. "What d'you mean, overdose?" He asks.

Sebastian sighs. "He wants to die, Remington. He's seriously depressed. He saw you with Amber and he can't deal with it. You're his husband whether you like it or not and he needs to see you. And you need to be fucking nice. No 'mopey', no f-word, just be nice."

"He wants to die?" Remington questions, finding clothes. "What?"

"You're surprised? You've contributed to this, you know? All your sarcastic comments and homophobia. You're part of the problem."

"I am?"

"Obviously. Come on."

Following his brother while pulling a shirt over his head, the younger frowns. "I didn't know he was really that sad, Sebastian," he admits, "I'm sorry."

"Whether you knew or now, you shouldn't have said any of it. He's done so much for you and I know you don't remember, but you owe him this."

"What do I have to do?"

"Hug him. That's it. You don't need to say shit. Just fucking give him a hug. It'll mean more from you that it does from me or Em."

"Okay," Remington agrees, "fine."

Sebastian gets in the car and waits for Remington before pulling out of the driveway and onto the road. "Thank you," he says, and he means it. He hadn't expected his brother to be so understanding about it, honestly. It's a relief that he was wrong. "Nothing mean," he reminds Remington, once they're walking down the hall in the hospital. "if you say the f-word, you'll be back in a coma. Got it?"

Walking beside him, the singer nods and mumbles, "I won't say anything mean. Promise."

"Good. This way." He stops at a door and takes a breath before pushing it open. "Be nice," he whispers to his brother one final time before stepping in.

The three who are already in the room look towards them. Emerson nods at Sebastian – they'd worked out they'd do this a while ago – and Andy's eyes dampen just at the sight of Remington, who looks with uncertainty at Sebastian beside him. He gets a look of encouragement and with caution, he approaches the bed. Andy watches him.

Remington sits on the edge of the mattress stiffly. "Uh...hi," he says unsurely, alarmed when Andy sobs and brings a hand to his face. "I'm gonna...I'm gonna hug you," the boy then tells the elder. He looks at his brothers for a moment and they nod, so he moves closer to the broken man and loosely wraps his arm around his shoulders.

Andy pulls Remington into him with desperation, closing his eyes tightly and pushing his face into the other's shoulder. Everyone in the room can hear him crying and Remington doesn't move, save for the fingers that draw circles into the blue gown that hangs from Andy's body. He realises how much hurt he's caused.

The hug is long and much needed. Andy releases Remington eventually, once his tears are beginning to subside, without speaking.

"I'm sorry," Remington says. "I didn't want you to feel you had to die."

Sebastian and Emerson share glances, praying that this doesn't go south.

"I don't want you to die," Remington continues softly. "Sorry I made you think I did. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm really sorry I hurt you." He looks down at the bed.

Andy's eyes are cast down also. He draws in a careful breath and quietly talks. "Thank you," is what he says. Then he wipes his eyes with the sleeve of the gown and sniffles.

"How can I make it better?"

Remington's surprisingly touching question causes the three on-lookers to exchange hopeful looks. Andy pokes at his bandaged arm. "I can't make you love me if you don't," he mumbles with sadness, "but I need to know you don't-you don't hate me."

"I don't hate you."

"I won't sit here and tell you I'm fine with you and...her, but...but if that's what you want and if that's what makes you happy, then I can't take it from you."

"Okay," Remington whispers.

"And stop using that f-word, 'kay?"

"Okay. Sorry for-for saying it to you."

"It's okay. I know you're still a little confused."

"Are you going to, uh..."

"Do it again?" Andy finishes. Remington nods. "I don't know."

"Is it because of me?"

The elder sighs and yawns. "It's because of everything," he says. "Thank you for coming. I needed to see you."

"I really am sorry," Remington apologises again. He looks at his brothers. They smile gratefully.

"I can't forgive you."

"Okay."

"But thank you. It means a lot. I know you're dealing with shit, too. I don't expect you to sacrifice anything for me." It's the unspoken words that are the loudest now. What he means is that he wants Remington to sacrifice something for him.

"Okay."