Trigger warning - Mentions of panic attacks, self harm.

Also I realised I said Sebastian went for dinner with Larisa last chapter but they broke up in like the first book so pretend it said Faye please and thankyou.

Another panic attack wakes Andy, who slips out of bed and leaves the room without disturbing Remington, who's sleeping after hours of lying awake with an alcohol-induced head ache. Andy sits on the stairs with his head in his hands and forces himself to just breathe.

He wonders what is happening with Kacey, who they haven't heard anything about for a few days. The lack of knowing how she is creates dread, and dread, of course, leads to panic. And panic means no sleep.

The man looks up when he hears the sound of the bedroom door opening, watching Remington approach and averting his gaze. "I didn't wanna wake you," he says quietly, still trying to calm down.

"You need to talk about this," Remington responds, sitting beside his husband on the top step. "You don't need to be having panic attacks on your own, Andy. Let me help you."

"It's fine." Andy shrugs off the issue, really not wanting to talk about this, specially not in the middle of the night.

Worried and wondering why the man is being so closed off, Remington sighs. "It's not fine, though. Why won't you talk about it?" Beside him, Andy hauls himself off the step, standing up and rubbing his eyes. "Andy, come on. You can't keep dismissing it when something is obviously wrong."

"Nothing is wrong."

"Yes it is."

"No, Remington. I'm fucking fine, okay? Leave it." Andy opens the bedroom door.

Remington gets to his feet, too, following his lover. "Andy, please," he begs, putting a hand on the man's shoulder.

Andy looks back at him with an almost pained expression. "I don't know how," he slowly admits, sighs.

"That's okay. Look, it's okay. But d'you know what isn't okay?" He runs a hand down Andy's arm, grabbing his hand. "Not talking about it. Keeping it inside and pretending it'll all just go away if you tell everyone it's fine. That's not okay. And d'you know why?" He kisses Andy's hand. "Because then you're not okay. And you'll get less and less okay and then you'll end up like me."

"I'm not supposed to be not okay, Remington. I'm supposed to be the always-okay one."

"No one is always okay. That's not realistic, and if you try and be that person you're gonna end up hurting so bad, and you don't deserve to hurt."

Andy sighs. He looks down at his hand in Remington's and then up at the pretty boy's soft face. "I know," he mumbles. "I need to sleep. I'm sorry, I know I'm letting you down and I-"

Remington puts a finger to Andy's lips. "You're not. You said before that I should never apologise for being sad. Take your own damn advice, tiger. You should never apologise for being sad, either."

Without a word, Andy hugs his husband. He thinks about how that poor little girl is either somewhere in the cold night, scared and hungry and lonely and just needing a home, or just dead. Like everything in the end. Dead.

Andy leaves for the studio the next morning, after a hug from Remington. He's pulled to the side by Jake, who, once again, asks why it looks like he isn't sleeping. The man sighs. "It's under control," he says, "don't worry. I'm fine."

"You are talking about it, right?"

"Yes, Jake, I'm talking about it," Andy says, rolling his eyes. "I'm working on it, okay?"

"As long as you're not-like-harming yourself. You're not, are you?"

Andy scoffs. "Of course not, Jake. I would never do that."

Remington spends the day with Sebastian. The two work on a few songs, stopping for lunch which Sebastian makes, and the guitarist makes sure Remington is okay, that there's nothing he needs to get off his chest. The two go live on Instagram in the afternoon, playing two acoustic songs because someone suggested it in the comments.

The singer returns home to find Andy in the bathroom with a razor in his hand, looking down at the blade as though he's in another world. "No no, give that here," Remington gently demands, taking the razor and putting it in the sink.

"It keeps getting worse."

Remington sits beside Andy, rubs his shoulder. "Tell me about it," he encourages.

The older sighs. "I wouldn't know where to even start."

"It doesn't matter where you start. Just as long as you start somewhere."

Andy is quiet. He puts a hand over Remington's. "D'you ever think about one thing over and over and it's the only thing you can think about? And you know it's not healthy but you do it anyway?"

"All the time. What're you thinking about?"

"Just...how I shouldn't have left Kacey at that hostel."

Remington frowns. "We both left her, Andy, not just you. You can't blame yourself for that. She's not your responsibility. You hardly know her."

"Yeah, but we were there and we saw how her mother talked to her and we should've done something."

"We did do something. We called social services."

Andy sighs.

"Look, I know you feel guilty for her disappearing, but you can't blame yourself for that. You just can't."

"I know."

Remington looks at the man beside him. "What else is going on?"

"What?"

"Oh, come on. There's no way you're this worked up over just that. What's really wrong?"

There's a soft silence for a minute, before Andy talks. "I don't think you wanna know."

"Yes I do. Tell me."

"I'm making dinner," Andy announces, and gets up off the floor.

Remington shakes his head. What does he have to do to get Andy to talk?

There's a sort of uneasy-ness while Andy is chopping vegetables, Remington sitting on the counter watching, trying to figure what's in the man's mind, what's so upsetting that he can't possibly tell his own husband about it. The husband who's been abused and raped and left to die in a hotel bathtub. What could possibly be upsetting enough that Andy couldn't just tell him?

"I can feel your eyes burning me," Andy speaks up, tipping carrots into a saucepan.

"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"I just did."

Remington rolls his eyes. He knows Andy is trying to dance around the problem. "Seriously, Andy."

"Fine. You wanna know why?"

"Yes, I wanna now why," Remington urges, swinging his legs.

Andy looks up at him. "Because it'll break your heart."

Remington doesn't have a response.